The complex of humility and heroism
by iram0123
Summary: "They didn't protect or help anyone." She has felt so bitter and angry for years, but it is only now that Masako has returned to a place from her past. And she feels like pouring everything out of her chest at one go. "Why didn't you protect us?" There is no way that she can get back what was ripped away.
1. Chapter 1: After an end

_Nobody knows who I really am_

 _I never felt this empty before_

 _And if I ever need someone to come along_

 _Who's gonna comfort me, and keep me strong_

 _\- Life is like a boat (By Rie Fu)_

* * *

Chapter 1: After an end

* * *

" _Really. It is fine."_

 _A breeze moves the thin curtains, shining on the flower patterns as I watch them move. The sunlight outside is bright, too bright for my liking so I stand up and walk to the window._ _It is quite large, and I can see out to the yard where people are either sitting or walking around in their dull gowns. It is the same as any other day and the sight doesn't seem any different._

 _The window is somewhat rusty and old, so when I start closing it, the sound it emits scratches my ears. The final breeze that manages to come in makes the bangs in front of my face move before it is shut out completely. There is enough air in this room, to begin with, but I feel like I am suffocating in here. I press my hands against the warm glass briefly and turn around._

" _No, it is not," my voice is soft, as I make my way back to my original seat. It looks just as dull as those people outside, but I admit liking how soft it is when I sit down. My entire body feels like it is sinking and unlike the window, the armchair does not make a sound.  
_

" _When can you leave?"_

 _Silence. Hearing only the sound of someone walking in the hallway on the other side of the wall makes me bite down on my tongue. I sigh tiredly and press my cheek against the soft armrest with my hands acting as extra pillows. Still, the way nobody speaks in the room is deafening enough. I want to break something but refer from standing up. Who knows what I might do, if I even make an inch up from this seat._

 _How long exactly have I been here?_

" _I am sorry."_

 _I frown and shake my head, fighting back tears that sting my eyes like needles. "What are you sorry about?"_

" _You will be fine."_

 _Those words sting even more, and I raise my head, positive that my eyes are glossy and that the trembling of my lower lip is just as visible. My short fingernails dig into the chair harshly. The marks on it are proof enough that this isn't the first time I am taking my emotions out on it._

" _No…" I wish for my voice to sound steadier and that it could have more volume to it, but all I can hear is a whisper. "I won't."_

 _ **This isn't fair.**_

 _My shoulders tremble and it becomes too hard for me to keep my chin up. I lower it and bury my face into my arms again. A right thing, for now, should be to stay calm and look straight at what is ahead, but I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe, if I keep crying like this, someone will take pity on me and stop this nightmare forever. This is probably a cliché or cheesy way to describe it, but that is just how I am seeing things now. This place is nothing more than a black hole that is slowly tearing and swallowing me up.  
_

 _I don't stop the tears from flowing freely anymore. They are warm, but I shiver when the air conditioner continues blowing cool air in. However, I am soon numb to the chill and can only think of the pain that blooms inside my chest. It spread breaks, tears and destroys my insides. I choke and clench my hands tightly, now fully giving up on trying to remain calm and level-headed._

 _Not being able to bear it, I slowly stand up – struggling to stay up and not fall down on my knees – and sit down on the bed. I lean down and hug a warm body which embraces me tightly back. I can feel how warm breath heats my right shoulder alongside with something wet._

 _I want almost to say: 'See? Not even you can stop crying._ _ **'**_

 _I choke again when a hand combs through my hair and another hand holds me tighter.  
_

" _I-I d-don't want t-this…" I whisper, letting every bit of my anguish soak in those words._

 _There is no air to breathe in._

 _Something cracks._

 _Breaks and fades._

 _The arms keep holding onto me firmly, but gently and shaking._

 _Whatever is building up in me is starting to boil over and I choke out. The pain keeps on spreading._

 _Nothing makes sense anymore._

 _Everything hurts and burns._

 _There is no reason to continue on._

 **" _Don't leave me alone!"_**

* * *

It happens out of nowhere. One second, I am arranging new food products on the shelves and the next thing I know the ground is shaking violently. A few cans on top of each other at my side fall down and clatter loudly while the whole staff and the people in the store start panicking. The shaking lasts only for a moment, but it is enough to make me freeze on my spot.

People cry out – I also holler when I fear a whole shelve will soon fall on me – and soon the store is filled with mutters of confusion. I remain frozen on my spot, but then fall down to my knees when another tremor shakes the whole place, and it feels much stronger and closer than the first one. The products rattle next to my head and I remain in my fatal position like a rock.

"W-what is happening!?"

"Get down!"

"An earthquake!"

When the idea of a natural disaster rises up with a stronger yell, my already fast heartbeat quickens its pace and I start crawling forward quickly. And if this is adrenaline which allows me to dodge skillfully fallen packages of chips, then I am most grateful of my instincts to get away.

Another earthquake could happen at any second, and I am not planning on being in the middle of two large shelves that could fall and crush me.

When I have made it out of the danger, mostly, I see another few workers down on the ground as well. They are shielding their heads and I do the same, feeling a bit safer with somewhat familiar faces. I am trembling, wishing that this could have been my day-off and I would be somewhere else. _I hate, hate,_ _**hate**_ _Mondays!_

Still being overtaken by fear, I curl into a tight ball and pray that the ceiling won't be crashing down. Though, I probably should try and crawl under a desk or some other solid thing that could provide protection to some unknown level.

" _Everyone, please, stay calm!"_ The speaker inside the store cuts through the panic and silences mostly everything else. _"There is a villain out in the loose on the street and is creating these tremors. The heroes will be arriving soon, so we are asking all of you to stay inside until the situation settles down. Thank you."_

As soon as whoever is speaking from the staff room of the store stops, yet another earthquake shakes and ruffles the shelves. I flinch, not seeing how this being a villain's doing makes the situation any better. _By the time anyone makes it here, this place will be nothing but dust!_ And that persons till managed to sound so calm and monotonous, as usual. I want to scoff loudly and tell him that there is no way anyone can have a tranquil state of mind even if someone was coming.

However, contrary to my belief, the people in the store start to lower their volume. Shakily, I look up to see the two of my coworkers shift from their curled-up positions and just sit calmly in the middle of a hallway.

"Only a villain? That scared me shitless for a sec there."

"Tell me about it," the other worker grumbles and rubs the back of her head. "I was almost crushed by a sack of flour back there."

The male worker snorts but then spots me a few feet away with a shaken and probably wild look of a frightened animal on my face. "Wow. Are you alright?"

It takes a while for me to process the question and realize that both of them have started to observe me with obvious concern. My mind works slowly. I stumble with my next words, still shaking. "Y-yeah. I… I w-wasn't just expecting this to happen," I laugh weakly.

"This is actually my third time seeing something like this happening," the man muses and looks out of the window. I see smoke rising and the thick greyness blocks any sighting of buildings or people. "So, I think we will be fine. The pros will be here in no time."

 _Fine?_ That word and his calm demeanor do not make me feel any safer.I look around the store, slightly hoping that someone else would share my uneasiness. But to my shock, the customers have settled down and merely also peer out to catch a glimpse of the one causing all of this chaos. I, on the other hand, am silently begging them to stay far away from the way out or the villain might see us attack this store next. Goosebumps have spread all over my limbs and the short sleeves of my uniform make them easy to spot. I am already feeling pretty bare on the ground with the ground trembling and knowing that there is a dangerous individual out there.

Inhaling sharply, I try to sit up as well. I should just stay calm, for now. This is a large city, things tend to happen here more often than in an isolated countryside. Honestly, I have never experienced an attack made by a villain firsthand and I wonder if these people can see it from how I am reacting. Although, we can't really be guaranteed that this whole place will not come crashing down.

As if the world is against me, the ground shakes again and the lamp above our heads flicker. A small 'eep' escapes from my mouth and I cover my head with my hands immediately. _I am going to die!_

"Whoa! Calm down," the co-worker says, and it is clear from the tone that she is much more collected than I am at the moment. "The building is pretty sturdy, and this is not the first time that someone attacks shops in this street."

"R-right," is all that I can get out of my mouth. _Is this really so common that they barely react?_ "How l-long exactly do we have to wait?"

"Usually, the heroes come and take care of the matters in less than an hour around here." The woman frowns. "But it pretty much always depends on what the situation is and who is handling it."

I want to cry and slam my head on the ground in frustration. Even thirty minutes is too long of a period of time for me to just sit here in the store and wait for the destruction outside to settle. My palms start to sweat again, and I take out my phone to see that my shift should end in ten minutes and it sends a jolt through my body. This is bad – I am starting to sweat bullets. Who even commits crimes while it is in the middle of the day and bright? Not to mention in the middle of a public area?

 _Calm, calm. Stay calm,_ I try repeating to myself, but yelp when another quake shakes the ground. The phone slips from my fingers, but I catch it quickly. Luckily, my coworkers are too busy looking out to what is happening to really notice my blunderings. Not at least bit as interested as they are in the commotion, I turn my attention back to the device in my hands while holding in my irritation and bewilderment.

Back at Hokkaido, I wouldn't have run into a situation like this even in the wildest of circumstances. It was peaceful where I am from, but I should have guessed for this place to be much different. Though, expecting to work in a middle of a street where an attack could occur never crossed my mind.

Suddenly, there is a pause in the air and even I can feel it. People have stopped talking, start to stand up from their crouched positions and are all looking out of the window.

Curious and very hopeful, I also stand up and make my way to stand behind my coworkers who have started to line up as well. And over peoples' shoulder, I catch a glimpse of a dark and collapsed form. Blinking, I frown and then take in the way how he doesn't seem to be able to move. _That must be the villain, I guess?_ And right next to the body, with back straight as an arrow stood a person dressed in a skintight outfit, his back to the crowd inside the store.

 _A hero._

The inside of my entire mouth grows dry and I just continue standing there like a solid statue. I forget time and then the reason why I am even standing there in the first place. The only thing I can focus on is that standing form on the other side of the window.

"Thank goodness!" Someone exclaims out loud, breaking the quiet muttering the other people have started doing.

"I can return to work now!"

"That villain looks so weak! It is no wonder it was beaten so quickly."

Some start to flood out of the store and out to the street and gather around the standing man while a bunch of police cars starts appearing. The uniform-clad men start surrounding the area and the hero turns around to receive the praise from the excited and grateful people…

All the while I just stand, expression slack and with no emotion whatsoever on my features. Somehow, watching this hero, the people surrounding him and the villain who is chained by the police and dragged away is making my stomach clench. Although, at the same time, I can't tear my eyes away from the scene. The people who had been panicking the very second the earth started to move, had calmed immediately when hearing of that beaten villain being on the loose. And now they are all looking at one person, the appreciation clear on their faces.

My eyes don't follow the gathered crowd, but a smaller group of policemen who are now pulling the villain to his feet. He looks to be unconscious, and if he isn't, then it is merely a shock influencing his limp form. There are chains around his wrists, now. Some young folk are on the side and pointing at him with clear smiles on their faces and making mocking gestures.

Everything on the other side of the glass is black and white.

… _I will just go out through the back door, then._

* * *

I stare at the rows of fast-food products lined up in front of me. I am not sure how long I have done that, but I couldn't really care less. Any person who has passed this section and seen me just standing in my place has probably thought that I have a problem with deciding what I want. Although, they all would want to call help if they took notice of how unmovable I have been and what kind of blank look is figuratively carved on my face. _Chicken or shrimp noodles?_ When I try calculating how much money I can use and how much is left, my thoughts keep on trailing off.

 _What did I want to buy, again?_ That is the last straw and I let out a quiet sigh. There is no way that I can decide anything today. I should just go home, maybe to take a bath or sleep.

I turn around and start making my way towards the cashier. I haven't used this store before, so I am not really sure if I am going in the right direction. It may also have something to do with the fact that I haven't pretty much paid any attention to my surroundings when walking around the place and I can only hope that I won't get lost while walking back to my apartment.

"…ko?"

I freeze and raise my eyes confusedly to stare forward. I am still in the middle of the same rows of shelves and only a few steps away from entering the one holding milk products. I blink once and then continue walking. It is such a funny coincidence. There must be someone else in this place who is called…

"Maki Masako?"

I freeze for the second time, shoulders stiff. _This is going beyond having similar names coincidentally with someone._

Slowly, I turn half-way around and tilt my head down. Strangely, I am met with bright yellow colors and a masked face looking up at me. Two pairs of eyes behind that black piece of a mask are wide and do once over on my whole appearance. I frown, not liking the action and keep my shoulders squared. However, my defense falters when I realize that this person is only an old man.

I relax, but then my muscles stiffen again. It is slightly annoying how slowly my brain seems to be working nowadays, but I wish that I could remain in that half-asleep state I had been just a second ago. No random stranger should know my full name so easily, especially in this part of Japan. Not to mention he is wearing overly peculiar outfit… which can only belong to a hero and that makes matters even worse. So, the way I can feel my heartbeat against my ribcage and echo in my ears, the rabid way my palms are gathering drops of sweat to them and how I can't seem to breathe all of sudden are pretty common factories that scream for me to make a run for it.

The old man doesn't take a step forward, nor do I make a move to back away.

"Is it really you, Masako? What are you doing here?" As the questions pass, something in the elder's tone tightens.

"U-um," I glance around, not really hearing what he is asking, "do… do I know you? This must be a mistake."

"Shouldn't you be at Hokkaido?"

That settles it and I visibly flinch in horror. It is official, and I have literally walked into a trap. A voice inside my head screams that I am an idiot and that I should have ignored the call of my name the very second, I heard it.

This old man knows who I am, and I am terrified from thinking what other information he has on me. I hadn't predicted this; the chances of this happening were so small and near nonexistence that this is definitely a miracle. A bad one.

"Who…" I have to inhale deeply – _stay calm! –_ and not to go with the urge to make a run for it, "who are you?"

His look of shock – it seemed to be morphing into an emotion close to anger – melts into confusion. "What? You were never told of me? Don't you even remember – Oh. I guess you were too young."

 _Never told? Young?_ My frown deepens, and my heart won't settle. _Just who is this person?_

"My hero name is Gran Torino. Does that say anything to you? Or what about my real name, Sorahiko?"

My mouth opens and closes, truthfully, that doesn't tell me anything. I am starting to think that this is all a simple, but horrifying coincidence mixed with bunches of misunderstandings until I pause with my train of thoughts. Something hits me, like a nostalgic memory and a frown forms on my face again. I can't start to ignore that there is a certain familiarity with this name I have heard.

 _Sorahiko… Gran… what was it again?_

I look at the old man – Sorahiko – again, much like he had done to me a few moments ago. I keep on noting how short he is, how old he looks and yet he carries a basket with different foods in his one hand without any problem. Naturally, nothing pretty much clicks into place yet, but then…

"You are…" I say quietly, too much occupied in remembering.

My eyes turn as wide as plates.

Gran Torino smirks, as he watches my shocked – terrified – expression. "So, you do remember me."

* * *

The silence is heavy, it fills the entire wide area covered in furniture and dust. However, I try my best to appear as nonchalant as possible. Although, it is becoming rather hard. The chair is uncomfortable, damp air has gotten in through an open window where rain falls down to the city and not to mention the fact that there is a pair of sharp eyes watching me across the table critically. I feel intimidated and keep my gaze on the table in pure stubbornness. My fingers play with the hem of my hoodie and I keep on glancing towards a nearby clock as the minute's tick by.

I am soaked, slightly cold and fear that soon a sneeze might cut through this thick atmosphere. The latter is the last thing that I want to happen, but it might pass by if I don't open my mouth now and talk. Or the silent individual who also has his mouth set on a thin line and his arms crossed across his chest. The message is clear – he wants me to say something first. Probably to explain myself, immediately.

A frown almost makes my eyebrows knit together. He is the one who brought me here; he should be the one to start a conversation. _Why is he making me feel like a troublemaker here?_ It may be because he is a hero; someone who stands with _justice_ is seen as a one who has the power to judge, no matter who it is.

A heavy sigh finally breaks the silence and I stiffen, raising my eyes awkwardly. The sharp pair of eyes are closed, now. "Why are you here, Masako?"

This time, I let myself frown and look at him. "…B-because you brought me here?"

"You know what I mean," he grumbles out and opens his eyes. "Why are you _here_?"

Words get stuck in my throat and I lower my gaze again. The old man's gaze is too heavy, and I lean back and hope to melt together with the chair. I haven't really done anything wrong, but it feels as if I am in a police station, as a suspect that is. And this senior is the scary cop who forgot to bring the good cop with him. And instead of donuts, there is a bunch of _taiyakis_ placed in the middle of the table. I admit feeling hunger from looking at them, but those sensations shizzle when I remember where exactly I am at.

This is no time to be carefree, not that I could be like that in the first place. There has been heaviness dragging my feet and hung over my head the very second, I ran into this old man – the one who I haven't seen in years. _He still recognized me._

Hesitantly, I raise my eyes to meet his. It is still piercing, but the prickling against my skin is silenced by an observation. _Was he always this short?_

When he sees that I am not planning to answer, he sighs again. "Does Ren know you are here?"

I flinch, fingers digging into the grey fabric of my hoodie. I had ironed it so well before I went out, but now it is filled with wrinkles again. My throat feels tight and it isn't a surprise when I lower my eyes for the hundredth time. They have started to sting, and I suddenly feel much smaller than the older man who is patiently waiting for my answer. I should have figured that he would ask that. But I was kind of hoping that he would know the answer.

"…grandpa," I gather air into my mouth, stomach clenching tighter and my body trembles from the sheer force of sudden emotions, "is… dead."

Sorahiko lets out a sound – a grunt which holds all of his shock. "When?"

My hands continue clenching and shake violently. Somehow, the sound of his steady voice sends a flood of anger through me. _How can you ask that so_ _ **nonchalantly**_ _?_ My teeth grit together, and I absolutely refuse to raise my head again. I might as well get a neck cramp than look at the old hero in the eyes again. _I should have just ignored him and kept walking at the market._ It had been a shock to me. The fact that Sorahiko and I met with such coincidence that I couldn't move for a solid minute is nerve-wracking. I had an opening and I could have run away – despite his fast quirk that I remember seeing too well years ago. I could have ignored the mirroring shocked look that Gran Torino also had on his face.

Maybe it was because I was too shaken to fully think straight. There had even been a small hopeful thought in my skull that he might be slightly happy to see me. A stupid part of me was happy to be recognized by someone that even my sorrow was lifted all together for a mere second. But when the shock had been completely wiped out of Sorahiko's face, I understood what he thought.

He is not happy that I am here. He would much prefer that I would have stayed back in the countryside. The interrogation had started the very minute I stepped into his house. And now, I am close to bawling my eyes out like a child. I am close to raising my voice, too.

"Sh-shouldn't you know that?" My voice is quiet, contrary to my boiling emotions. "Grandpa told me… that you two have been in contact."

"Yes, but he hasn't since…" Sorahiko pauses and I can only imagine what his expression is like. The silence stretches for few seconds. "Three months. That is how long you have been here?"

"A month and a half," I mutter, but there is no doubt that he can hear it.

"How? Have you settled nearby?"

My stomach continued flipping, and I bite down on my lower lip. "I used… the money grandpa left as an inheritance. But – but I have also gotten a job."

"What kind of job?" Now there is suspicion in his tone and I actually feel a bit insulted. I look up to see him holding one _taiyaki_ while keeping his eyes on my meek form. He munches on it, which strangely adds coercion. He raises one eyebrow. "Well?"

"I work in a grocery store," I say softly and then glance to the outside through the window. "Can I go now?"

Honestly, I was looking forward to spending the rest of the day inside that dusty space I have started calling 'home'. Tomorrow I will have to get back to work and I can't do my job properly if I am tired from not getting any sleep. This old hero has already brought up a subject that I do not wish to recall when I have only recently been able to gather myself… somewhat.

Sorahiko gives me a stern look, but instead of commenting, he pushes a plate towards me. The chair beneath him creaks when he leans back and continues consuming his own snack. "Eat. It is still raining outside, and I don't have an umbrella to give, at the moment."

"But… "

His eyes shoot up to meet mine with the same sharpness he displayed the moment we sat down. The words get stuck into my mouth. Somehow, this makes me have millions of flashbacks whenever gramps scolded me. Despite it usually being – _had been_ – a very uncomfortable and stressful situation for me, I can feel comfort from that similar gaze, now. Nostalgic fills my chest and I look down at the plate full of _taiyaki._ I haven't eaten one for over two months and yet the sight of it does not make water rise in my mouth.

I look up at Sorahiko to see that he has dropped his own attention from me to his treat. Instead of seeing more wrinkle lines forming from a frown, his features have smoothened. Though, he does not look very happy, yet. In fact, I think that he looks almost melancholic. I could be seeing things because of the rain, the dim light, and the way my eyes still have blurry vision, but it basically doesn't matter because my lower lip drops barely to be visible movement. True, Gran Torino is someone I find slightly scary. He is basically an individual – an acquittance of the family – I have nearly no memories of from childhood. Only a few images are remaining in my brain, and they are fuzzy ones.

The old man has finished his snack and takes another no second later. The low expression hasn't left his features, but he doesn't say anything or look at me.

Seeing this, I take the first bite and my own thoughts are directed to that other wrinkly faced man who the world lost three months ago. _Were he and gramps truly friends, then? Is he sad because he is dead now?_

…if he feels that way, I can probably trust him.

"Can you not tell," I start quietly, hesitant of how I should put my wish into words, "that I am here… Especially…"

"I get it. You don't want _him_ to know," Sorahiko speaks as if he knows exactly what I think and fear the most at this very moment.

My shoulders relax, and I can actually feel how my sadness shifts out of the way of relief to some extent. I bite into the _taiyaki,_ relishing the taste that spreads into my mouth. The uneasiness I have felt until now isn't entirely gone, but at least I have some sort of reassurance. _Gramps did say that I should come here before he died._ I should have listened to him more and contacted this person much earlier. But, who knew that I would meet him like this and talk to him inside his house like this?

"Whatever drama is going to be happening between the two of you… it isn't my business."

I give a short nod, not knowing what else to say. But, I am grateful. So much so that tears nearly escape from my eyes.

"That being said, hurry up and finish that _taiyaki_!" He points at me angrily and I flinch from his suddenly loud and irritated voice. He then takes a bit from his own treat. "You are under my roof, and you have barely eaten the food I have graciously offered. Is this how youngster nowadays show respect to their elders?"

His words are nearly comical, but whatever gratefulness I felt a moment ago is gone. I am startled and a bit uneasy from the irritation he expresses, and quickly take another bite. He had been so calm and tranquil a second ago that I almost started mistaking him for gramps… but now I am certain that they are nearly nothing alike. Gramps never raised his voice to me – maybe few times, but that was rare and only when I truly screwed up.

" _He may be a bit rough on the outside, but don't let that startle you, kiddo."_

The food on the way into my mouth pauses as I mull over the faraway echo of the voice I have not heard in months.

Gramps had always talked of Sorahiko with a nostalgic expression and voice.

I peek – for the hundredth time – at the small old man on the other side of the table. When he does not wear an expression, the wrinkles seem to push down all joy in life on his face. Though, every elder person is like that in my eyes.

Still, gramps – for some bizarre reason – forgot to mention that Sorahiko… is a hero. If this old man had not insisted and intimidated me a bit, I would have not followed him from the store. But as I am taking yet another bite from _taiyaki,_ I think I understand what my grandparent had meant. He said he didn't want me to be alone for too long.

* * *

My entire body sinks into a soft bed and I let out a loud sigh, not at least bit worried if the neighbors can hear me from the other side of the wall. All I care about is how comfortable and safe the covers feel and bury my face into a pillow.

Still, all the comfort in this small room can't stop the slight trembling of my hands. The same can be said about of the rest of my body; it feels as if every muscle is made of jelly. The heartbeat inside my chest feels like it has increased its rhythm the longer I had kept walking back here, and there hadn't even been any running involved.

"That was scary," I sigh out, voice muffled. _Who knew that I would be so frightened of a small old man?_

Honestly, Gran Torino is not what I have expected, at all. He is nothing like I have always pictured heroes to be… Well, he is old and probably retired according to what I have understood, but still.

After the conversation we had, the whole 'lunch' had been going forward agonizingly slowly. I am not sure, if Gran Torino got to say everything he wanted, or if he stayed silent on purpose, but I was nearly suffocating while sitting there like an idiot and glancing around the place. If he noticed this, he hadn't commented on my behavior.

A pressure like sensation twists in my stomach and it churns uncomfortably. I scowl, face flushing, but then shiver and turn on my back while hugging a pillow. Those _taiyakis_ had been good, but in the end, I ate too much. If Sorahiko consumed just as much as I did – hopefully more – then I wish for him to suffer from a full stomach as well. What was the point even making me stay there for more than two hours, to begin with?

I sigh again and roll to my side, feeling a bit tired from recalling one unexpected moment that broke the suffocating silence in that rundown house.

Getting up I walk frustrated to a cardboard box left in the corner of my room. It is covered in dust and one side is hanging slightly open with torn tape still attached to its edges. _I could have used gramps as an excuse. Would he have seen the lie, though?_

There are many things gramps left behind, but few of those are the only ones that I actually took with me to the other side of Japan. They aren't anything major, just simple items that can keep on reminding me of him. Though honestly, I had wanted to take everything he had owned from our house, but that would have been impossible. Those things that haven't made it here are probably trash somewhere in a dumpster and the rest have been settled into a flea market. None one of those places, make me feel any better. The fact remains that people will be thinking of his former possessions as nothing more than trash and it makes my blood boil with bitterness.

Slowly, I reach in and pull out a letter. It isn't old, like the other objects in the box, but rather new and was probably written shortly before gramps died. On its front, there is writing, and the name 'Gran Torino' is clearly there. I frown from seeing it and straighten up.

If the spirit of my grandparent is watching me, I hope that he hasn't had his hands on this fateful meeting I had today. It was hard enough to move out, but it was harder to face someone who apparently knows me here. For a moment, it had felt like the ground beneath me had collapsed and I had been so afraid.

A lump has appeared in my throat and it hurts. I hold the letter close and go back to bed with dragging steps. _If you had something you wanted to tell him, you should have used mail._

Now I will have to go back to that old house to give this to Gran Torino.

" _Breaking news straight from the inner streets of Hoshi,"_ the lady from the tv startles me out of my thoughts. Just a second ago, there was a thing about the overpricing of milk in stores. _"Here, next to this unpredictable corner of two streets, a brutal attack has taken place."_

My body stills, and I slowly turn to look at the screen right on the other end of the room. There is an image of yellow tape blocking the way into an alley with a bunch of police officers moving or standing around it while trying to block a bunch of civilians from getting closer. The sight peeks my interest immediately and I get closer with the letter clutched in my hands.

The camera shifts its position to a woman who stares back with a somewhat blank face, but even I can see the tension on it. _"The infamous Hero Killer has once again made his move..."_

Something inside of me turns far more bitter than it already is. Of course, I should have guessed that this news was going to be all about that one ominous person. Not long after I moved here, he was the first thing the local news mentioned. It made me feel a bit uneasy and still does, but luckily, I am not living in the same area where he prefers to attack.

Still, I feel sick just from hearing what he has done.

As soon as I sit down in front of the screen, the camera filming the whole thing – wherever this scene is from – turns and zooms in on an ambulance. There is someone being taken into the vehicle, but that person is…

" _Hey! No filming allowed!"_ An officer appears and blocks the view of the camera with his gloved hand.

The screen staggers and then it takes a few seconds and undistinguishable noises for it to stop moving. The news reporter looks a bit irked from having her filming to be interrupted but tries obviously to remain professional. The yellow tape peeks from behind her sharply, but the crowd is not visible anymore.

" _The identity of Hero Killer's new victim remains unknown, but there is no doubt that they are yet another hero who unfortunately happened to pass by the area…"_

I frown deeply while listening, being suddenly very well aware of how dark it is outside right now. Shivering, I quickly stand up, walk to the window and close the curtains. The hairs on the back of my neck are on the edge, just like witnessing a horror movie. Granted, the Hero Killer hasn't killed any civilians, yet. So, who is to say that he will not strike somewhere unexpected?

" _The victim has – according to our intel – more than a few wounds and in a critical condition which-"_

I switch the channel before she can finish. I do not need to have any nightmares tonight.

Scrunching noise right under my nose makes me look down to see the letter nearly smashes into a ball between my fingers. I stiffen, thinking that these wrinkles can't be smoothened down with ironing.

* * *

More than a bit nervous about what is about to come, I knock on the wood. There is no buzzer for me to use and inform the person living in this building that there is someone waiting outside. Well, at least the weather is looking much better than a few days ago. It certainly has taken me a while to gather some courage to do this, last time was intense enough, but what will this second meeting be like? That is pretty much all that has been bothering me for a while.

When the door doesn't open, the frown on my face starts to melt. _Maybe he is not home?_ That certainly would take some of the weight off my chest.

However, just as I am ready to turn around and make a walk back to my apartment, I hear a solid and quite loud 'thud' coming from the inside. The sound makes me jump slightly and strains my ears to listen closely for any other noise from inside. Sure enough, short grumbling and quiet speaking voices come behind the solid door and my heartbeat quickens. It seems that my thoughts - of anyone not being home - were not valid.

I become more nervous when a voice from the inside shouts: "Yes, yes! Coming!"

Despite it being a muffled sound, the bottom of my stomach clenches from recognition. _Well, here goes nothing._

The door is finally opened, and my gaze naturally falls down to see a small old man standing there. For a second, he looks shocked to see me, but that expression soon falls. "Why are you here again?"

I am startled by the curt tone and bluntness and feel a sense of dread. He doesn't look very happy to see me – not that I even expected him to – but… I bite down on my lower lip and reach out into my jacket. "U-um… Grandpa – kind of – wanted…"

"Speak up! I can't hear you!" Sorahiko ruffs out and waves his cane menacingly.

I jump and quickly pull the letter out. "Here. From grandpa."

His eyes go between me and the white piece of paper before he swiftly reaches out and takes the thing from me. He looks down at it and frowns. "Why does it looks so worn out?"

My shoulders stiffen, but I try to relax and appear calm. Whether he is guessing the reason for that can stay as a mystery to me. "Sorry to bother you… I will be going now."

I turn around, just as swiftly as he had taken the letter. The ground feels a lot firmer under my feet now, but I also fear that my eagerness to get away is too obvious. It must be because when I am just a few steps away from pavement covering the street, I am halted.

"Wait," Gran Torino calls out and I turn slightly to see the door hanging more open. The small man clad in yellow gestures inside. "Come in. It is about time for some snacks."

The very second his words register in my head, I shake it. "No, no that is not ne-"

"I _insist_ ," he says firmly, not showing an expression on his face. And it is all enough to make me scurry back meekly and step inside the building for the second time in this week.

"Pardon the intrusion," I mutter under my breath and listen as the door is slammed shut behind me.

The apartment has not changed – obviously. The furniture is not in harmony with the color of the walls, but you can't probably expect an old man put some time into thinking his house's image. It is plain as a day from the way the whole thing looks from the outside. Still, it is not how it looks that is making me uneasy. It is the fact that Sorahiko has gotten me in here, for the second time, and the fact that I could have kept walking away.

Somehow, despite him being small, looking like he has one foot in the grave already and being a hero – the latter wouldn't make a difference, though – he certainly intimidates me. The palms of my hands are sweaty, and they become worse when Gran Torino walks past me.

 _I swear… If he offers me yet again taiyaki I am going to-_

Footsteps from the kitchen make my thoughts pause and a young voice pierces through my mind. "Gran Torino, who was – Oh."

I turn my gaze slightly to see a ruffled-looking boy standing with a plate and fork in his hands. Though, more comical than that and his wide eyes that are looking at me, as if some sort of three-headed freak is his messy and green locks that seem out of order on top of his head. However, the next things I noticed are the noticeable scratches on his face and a slight bruise on the side of his head.

Injuries. They are not bad and make the boy look like he has simply taken a tumble down a hill. Though, he must have done so a mere seconds before I came here. The state of his clothes is no better. They have wrinkles and pecks of dust all over, especially on the white t-shirt he is wearing.

"U-um," he mumbles, seeming more than a bit lost at the moment, "g-good day?"

I am tempted to raise an eyebrow but feel his pain. I am just as confused as he is. So, a simple forced and awkward smile spreads on my lips. "Good day."

"Boy, where is the _taiyaki_?" Gran Torino asks from the table, tapping his hands on the surface what seems like impatience.

The young boy's shoulders visibly tense and he quickly makes his way to a microwave. "R-right! They will soon be ready."

"Masako," Sorahiko calls to me and gestures briefly at the seat next to him, "sit down, already."

A bit reluctantly, I walk over and do sit down. Though, I also make sure to keep some distance between the two of us. Last time, I was seated opposite of him, but now he has made me sit next to him. It could be because there is someone else in here, now, but I still manage to feel conflicted. I nearly shake my head, when I realize just how paranoid I am making myself sound. _This is stupid._

The young boy walks briskly to the table and sets a table filled with steaming, fish-shaped pastries down. He sits opposite of me and looks up so that our eyes meet. Now, that we are in a close proximity, I take a note that he is even younger than I thought at first glance. There is a bunch of baby fat on his face and his eyes are just as wide and innocent looking as any child's. Although, the bare arms laid on the solid surface of the table have clear shapes of well-formed muscles. It is not on an adult man's level, but impressive for a young boy.

This one could be Gran Torino's grandson. But both in their appearances is the first sign of great differences. Not to mention the boy is much meeker and soft-spoken, as he has already demonstrated, despite stronger and taller physique, compared to an elderly man.

He blinks and then his large eyes widen further. Then, he bows his head. "Ah! I-I apologize for not introducing myself! My name is, Izuku. Midoriya Izuku. It is very nice to meet you."

That settles it. These two can't really be related… right? The thought of this polite boy sharing blood with grumpy Sorahiko sounds just too wrong.

"Masako. Maki Masako," I say and smile, this time it is not tight or awkward. "It is nice to meet you, too, Izuku-kun."


	2. Chapter 2: Familiar light

**PrettyKitty Luvs U: Thank you for being the first person to comment on this story. I hope that you will like this new chapter. :)**

* * *

 _It feels like I'm paralyzed,  
and I can't  
escape from the prison I'm  
living in.  
I'm naming the voices in my head  
They keep on telling me to give in  
But it's making me stronger  
Fight a little longer  
I'm gonna bring me back to life  
And I won't be paralyzed_

 _-Paralyzed (Against The Current)_

* * *

Chapter 2: Familiar light

* * *

 _Sometimes, I remember the good old days – the time when everything seemed so white and pure._

" _What is that?" I ask one day, out of the blue, pointing at the screen where people are moving. They twist, bend and turn, some even spit fire or float in the air like balloons. My eyes are wide and curious, completely observed in the world of unknown and I can't stop from leaning forward.  
_

 _To me, watching this strange new show was like discovering a new cartoon. However, the difference is that these were real people I saw. When little, you don't usually get into those kinds of entertainments, not fully at least. But for some reason, I got really curious about what I saw and wanted to know more.  
_

 _A heat of another person touches my side and soon the couch I am sitting on sinks from their weight. My wide eyes look at the person with extreme impatience for an answer and I receive a chuckle from the intense look I am giving._

 _A hand combs through my hair and I look back at the tv. It is a warm touch, but it pulls on the knots in my hair and I quickly duck down to avoid it._

" _Those are the people who are even now saving the world."_

" _Heroes?" I ask innocently._

 _The hand has stopped combing through my hair and settles on wrapping around my shoulder. It strokes my arm softly and I lean onto a body that holds me closer from that movement. However, I soon lean away and almost struggle against the hold, when a giant explosion appears on the screen. Though, as soon as the excitement comes, I feel frightened. Naturally, I lean back and cling to the closest person with every inch of my life while burying my face into their side._

 _Another chuckle vibrates the shell of my ear when I peek out from my hiding spot and quickly hide again. The same hand strokes my back as the chuckling continues. Honestly, it makes me a bit mad, because I truly feel threatened._

" _There is nothing to be afraid of," the voice tells me. It soothes my small nerves a bit. "They are just saving others. That was a villain just now."_

 _I frown and look towards the screen again. People are running wherever this show is coming from._

" _What was that explosion? Are they…" the words nearly freeze on my tongue as I try to form them, "going to die?"_

 _The concept terrifies me and tears soon well up in my eyes. I am not finding this show entertaining anymore and wish for it to change into one of those cartoons that I prefer. I am not even one of the people on the screen, but I feel as if I should be running. My legs curl into my chest and I close my eyes tightly to avoid looking._

 _The hand has started stroking my back again in a calming manner._

" _No. Of course, not. There are heroes there to help everyone."_

 _I look up, still doubting that there is no danger. There is a face smiling down at me with brightness and mirth on their expression, it is as if they are finding my fear amusing. The hand moves from my back to the top of my head._

 _The sun is shining outside, and it comes inside through the window. To my childish eyes, there is a shining silhouette of an angel wrapping itself around me in comfort and protection. The warmth continues consuming me and I soon find all of my worries and fears fading in this very same embrace. The tv has been forgotten by me and I can even ignore the sounds on the background. There is no reason for me to worry about that anymore and a goofy grin appears on my face. I let myself feel safe and happy at the moment and hug the person._

" _Look," a finger is pointed back towards the screen and my eyes follow it, "there is the one who will save the day again like many others."_

 _My eyes widen._

 _I see a light flying across the image of the city._

* * *

This dinner – snack time – has proceeded forward with the slowest and agonizingly dragging speed I have ever experienced. If it weren't for the fact that I am sitting with two strangers and this is a stranger's house and I am a guest here, then I would be stuffing my face with _taiyakis._ Maybe Izuku feels the same because I have noted how he pretty much munches on his own treat and looks around awkwardly. I am glad that I am not the only awkward person around anymore, though.

And it may be because I am feeling empathy towards this young boy or that he seems like the only one of the two males in the kitchen that I can have somewhat a casual conversation with, but I place the food down and open my mouth.

"Izuku-kun," I say steadily and his eyes dart to me rather quickly. I guess he hadn't expected to be talked to. "Are you here to help Sora-"

I wish that my flinch doesn't show when I accidentally try saying the old man's real name. Because, the very second that that name leaves half-way from my lips, I feel a sharp tap on the side of my leg. It is threatening enough to make me nearly choke on my own spit. I don't even have to look to know who had done that. I can only clench my hands into fists on top of the table and mask the act by linking my fingers together.

" _Gran Torino,_ " the extra emphasis on the hero name may be a bit much, but I try continuing calmly, like at the beginning, "with something?"

"What? Am I a crippled old geezer now?" Sorahiko grunts out and bites down on his _taiyaki_ quite loudly.

I flinch, realizing how stupid the question had sounded. My face burns and I lower it slightly. Of course, this old man doesn't need anyone to assist him. Despite looking so frail and small, if he is still wearing his hero clothes that probably signal that he is not out of shape just yet. But… what else am I supposed to ask or say in here? Isn't this just a natural assumption?

Also, there is an annoying ticking of the clock coming from a wall near the table. At some points, one could forget that it is there, but to my ears, it is like the sound of crickets that you hear in movies. I bite down on my tongue and scold myself for opening my mouth. Though, at the same time, I am also a bit irked at Sorahiko. _If you don't like my company, just kick me out._ I would rather deal with public humiliation than this and that is already saying something.

Luckily – and a bit strangely – Izuku is the one to break the stiff atmosphere next. "N-no. Actually, Gran Torino is the one helping me. I am… doing an internship, right now."

My eyes rise up naturally in interest. "Internship?"

"Yes," he says, looking bashfully to the side with a small, silly smile on his face. "I am actually trying to become a hero."

I stare, pondering his words in my head like they are alien language to me. Izuku keeps on smiling, though, obvious to my sudden silence and stare. I am a bit grateful for that – noticing my muteness would make this all more awkward – but after a few seconds, I simply say: "…Is that so?"

"Y-yes," he nods, looking shy, but the glow on his face is real. Then, he suddenly blinks curiously at me. "May I ask, but are you related to Gran Torino?"

A jolt tremors my body and my eyes widen from sheer surprise. Sorahiko lets out a more soundless noise in the back of his throat, but our closeness serves as an advantage to me.

Immediately, I am shaking my head. "No, no!" I cringe from how high my voice gets, but then clear my throat and try appearing calmer. Though, I am still shaking my head. "No."

"You don't need to repeat that," the old man grumbles once again, and I wish to lean away as far away as possible. "Tell me, do the two of us look even slightly similar?"

"U-um, n-not really?" Izuku stammers, shoulders stiff, his wide eyes darting from left to right – from me and Sorahiko. "It… it is just that… Um, how do I put this? Maybe the way the two of interact? No, no. That isn't it. The atmosphere? No. The two of you have some distance but there is some closeness. Maybe like that? Or is it just because Maki-san came here all of sudden that I think so?"

The young boy's voice gets softer but rushes past his lips in mutters. It is almost as if he has forgotten that we are still sitting on the other end of the table and watching him. I feel somewhat uneasy and worried that he might be having some sort of an attack, but Sorahiko beats me to it by slamming his hand on the table and startling both me and Izuku. He looks irritated and points the cane at the green-headed boy.

"Quit it already! She is a family member of an acquittance," he says with a final tone and goes back to eating _taiyaki._

Izuku looks at him and then directs his wide eyes to me. I give him a small smile and a nod, confirming Gran Torino's words. "I just came by to drop something for him."

He gives a small nod, putting pieces together. Then, we all lapse into yet another heavy silence.

* * *

"You don't approve," it isn't a question, but a statement. Sorahiko watches me from the door, as I step out into the sun.

Frowning and after processing his words a few times, I turn around and cross my arms. He is still giving me that sharp look and I am starting to wonder if it is just his normal face. "On what?"

The question makes him let out a breezy scoff. "On Izuku's training to becoming a hero."

If possible, my frown deepens. From behind the old man's small form, I see the said young boy making his way upstairs. Even the back of his shirt is covered in dust and his hair seems even more unruly than what I have already witnessed.

Probably because I am staring intently, he stops and turns sideways near the top and looks over to the front door. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a smile and a nod as if saying goodbye for now. I make the same gesture as he but leave out the smile while watching him walk to the second floor and disappear there. _He really is just a child._

Wetting my lips, I uncross my arms and place them on my hips. When I look at Gran Torino, he has not taken his eyes off of me and waits for an answer. "It isn't my business on what that boy does."

"So, you say, but I could see that expression on your face at the table."

I nearly bite my tongue in frustration and can feel how my neutral face wavers. The old man does not change his and keeps it perfectly blank. It conceals what he is really thinking, and it is slightly irking. In the end, I merely give a low hum and then a small bow. "Goodbye."

 _This isn't any of his business._

Honestly, Gran Torino's nosiness is getting on my nerves. He really is starting to act too familiar by asking things that are none of his business. Not to mention he made me sit with him at the table for the second time and stuff my face with _taiyaki._ My hands clench just from thinking those tense moments inside this rundown house. I should have sent that cursed letter in a mail and avoided the trouble of coming here.

Though, the worn-out appearance of this entire apartment kind of reminds me of my old house. Although, it wasn't as bad as this place. Even my current place outshines Sorahiko's house.

All familiarity aside… I am suddenly feeling very bitter just from knowing that a pair of old eyes are watching my retreating back. He is right on some things – maybe even more. I do not approve of the green-headed boy on becoming what he wants to. From what I have seen on our short interaction, Izuku is too gentle and soft-spoken to become someone with power over crimes. Just the thought of it… _makes my skin crawl._ The fact that Sorahiko is completely fine with it is also infuriating. Though, I have to again to remind myself that this isn't something I should dirty my hands in.

 _None of my business._

"You shouldn't think so bad of the boy just because of his dream!" The old hero calls out when I am almost two houses away from his.

With suddenly flushed face, I stiffen and whirl around to see him still standing by the door. Gritting my teeth and glancing around to make sure nobody is around, I holler back: "I won't!"

"Good! Your grandfather would be happy to hear that!"

Something inside of me shrivels up, dries until there is nothing left, freezes over into ice and breaks into ashes – it all happens right in the center of my chest. My body recoils back like a shockwave has been sent towards it and my jaw drops slightly like I am ready to gasp for air. The breath gets caught into my throat as my muscles refuse to continue moving forward. I feel like I can't breathe anymore, and my mind is turned off for what feels like minutes.

Sorahiko doesn't also move but keeps his eyes clearly on my frozen form.

Every muscle on my face is tight and no doubt those form an ugly grimace. Whether he sees this or not, I can only wish the old man does. And I wish my face is just as intimidating as anyone else's whose line has just been crossed badly. There is numbness spreading all over my limbs and takes all my might to keep the stinging in my eyes to a minimum.

 _How_ _ **dare**_ _you,_ is what nearly slips out of my mouth. I have to bite down harshly on my lower lip to keep it down.

Now more eager to get away than ever before, I turn my head away and walk even faster than before. However, my mind is now once again filled with useless thoughts. A frown tenses my facial muscles and I only realize that tension is there after ten minutes of walking – I am going to get more wrinkles at this rate. Although, no matter how further away I get, my brain won't settle down.

 _Crazy old man!_

My pace slows down unconsciously when I am walking near a park. And this is the point where I wish that there were no people around and that I could punch something. Feeling some satisfaction from damage could make me feel a lot calmer. I have no idea what Gran Torino hoped to achieve with what he said, but if it was anything positive his plan went to the opposite direction.

Grandpa of all people had nothing to do with our conversation, to begin with. He hadn't brought both of them up… so why did that come out of nowhere? _Why am I getting so sensitive over this?_

Shaking my head and gathering my thoughts, I head towards my apartment.

* * *

" _Yes, yes, of course. Please, wait a moment,"_ whoever is speaking on the other sure sounds calm and collected compared to how I have been for the past fifteen and a half minutes.

I bite down on my lip and kind of getting distracted from my nervous thoughts because of the stinging on it. The phone next to ear feels hot and I fear it might slip from my sweaty hand at any moment. My heartbeat is also not doing any good by hammering into my ribcage like trying to escape.

 _"Oh, yes. I have found your application for the job. You have mentioned that you can come to an interview anytime?"_

"Yes," I nod as if the woman can actually see me from her faraway office.

" _Then, may I suggest the twenty-first of this month?"_

"This Thursday?" I ask and there is a sound of agreement from her. I look down at the calendar in my lap and look for that date. "Yes. That would be great."

 _"Alright, then. You can come to the interview through the back door. There are other ones who come here during that day to do an interview, so-"_

 _Competition?_ My stomach churns from the idea. Truthfully, I hadn't expected that many people be interested in working in a fast-food restaurant during this time of the year.

" _-you will have to wait for at least a little while before being called in. I hope you don't have any other appointments during the afternoon?"_ The woman talking to me actually sounds worried that she might have given me a bad date.

I shake my head and start pacing. "No. It is all good. At what time should I be there?"

Honestly, working in a food store hasn't been all that bad – at some points there have been few bumps, though. But I need more money to support myself, so getting two jobs is a good option. Though, that will also affect how busy I will be with work and switching trains. Unfortunately, I have decided to take this new job in a location that is further away from my apartment. If only people who know me back at Hokkaido would see me now, they would be shocked. I am one of the laziest people they have ever met and hearing that I would be taking the trouble of traveling nearly an hour in a train for a job in a fast-food restaurant would certainly make them all go into a shock.

The corners of my mouth quirk up from the thought of seeing their faces. A sense of nostalgic longing makes my chest feel like something is squeezing it, but it soon fades when I remember where I am and what I am supposed to concentrate on.

I wrap things up quickly with the manager on the other end of the phone and end the call rather swiftly. A giant sigh leaves from my mouth and I sink down on my bed. _Here goes nothing, I guess._ I am hundred percent sure that I will get sick of jumping from too far away location to other.

Finally relaxed enough from the worries of a day, I roll to my stomach and start to switch channels on the tv.

The screen changes the themes; first, there is a cooking show, a movie, a commercial and then the news. I place the remote down and focus my whole attention and the news reporter.

" _And now to our evening topic. We will be discussing one of the most prestigious schools for heroes in the country."_

My face immediately falls, and I want to throw something at the screen. I understand that the heroes are important figures for the entire societies, but I feel like I am seeing them more and more now that I have started watching the news. Usually, I just pick up some articles in a newspaper and go on with a day. However, ever since getting this devil box, every single day has been filled with news about heroes. Frankly, I feel like I don't even have to open them to know what it will be about – I already know what has happened.

However, the mention of 'school' piques my interest. _Izuku._ He seemed to be a student. And now this thing about the education of heroes certainly makes me stay put and not change the channel all over again.

 _"It is the time of the year when students all over the country are doing their internship to real hero agencies. This time, we have an exclusive interview with two of the UA students from the hero course. Now, since the Sports Festival two weeks ago, many are already familiar with the school's talented newbies…"_

A new view appears on a screen. It isn't about the reporter anymore, but rather a giant stadium with tons of people clearly waving their hands in a frenzy or bunch of what seems like children running across the giant ground. Then, a giant iceberg manifests itself in the middle of the whole thing and the camera is zoomed in.

At this point, I am pretty much ignoring what the reporter is saying on the background and am focusing on two figures moving near the icy mountain. Its appearance startles me, but it is clear to understand that one of the two is the one who did it with a quirk. _That is pretty scary._ However, my heart skips a beat when I see a familiar green bob of a head moving swiftly away from incoming advancing of his opponent. He is blown back together with the other boy, but I have seen more than enough to know who that person is.

From reflex, I jump out of the bed and go quickly to my computer. Opening in and tapping a few words in, I am soon looking at different videos concerning the topic I have tapped in – 'Midoriya Izuku'.

My eyes are wide form the stream of information and for a second, I wonder if the internet got the person right – I have a pretty bad memory with names, so I am just worried that I might have forgotten his. Though, when I see the same image of a freckled-faced boy, I am certain that it is him again. _He is… famous?_

I watch the first video I see, and my mind is blown away, instantly. It really is that meek, a bit silly looking boy I met at Gran Torino's place. He is wearing completely blue clothes, but his hair is just as green as I remember. However, I feel a tinge of worry and shock when I see from a closeup view that his hands seem damaged. And I really pray that that purplish color is merely dye or funnily shaded dirt.

My mind jumps to those scratches that I saw on the boy and a deep frown mars my face. I am displeased and horrified. _Hasn't he been healed yet?_

"Who in the world could," escapes from my mouth, but I cover it when another giant piece of ice forms. _These are just kids… right?_

I continue watching. I see Izuku's moves, I see him struggling to stand and being obviously beaten down. And it sucks. I feel as if I could throw up and hold my stomach in horror and aware that I might need to run into the bathroom soon. Though, that might be exaggerating it a bit – I feel only shock and not nauseous pain.

Although, the biggest shock comes when I observe the boy's fighting more and more. There is such a force in his moves, and even when he seems to be getting more and more hurt, Izuku holds his ground against the boy fighting with ice. He literally _crushes_ the icy substances out of his way at one point. _All this power…_

My heart skips a beat and I won't blink, as I watch the video showing a scene where the young boy is smiling at his opponent.

There is a _light_ shining in his eyes.

The bitterness from earlier today spreads again. The muscles tighten, and I feel like suffocating in this very room.

* * *

 _How could this be?_ The cashier before me refuses to be opened and there is a customer waiting for their change. Sweat trickles down the side of my neck the moment I give another tug, nearly taking the whole construction down if that is even possible. From the corner of my eyes, I see a line on my spot growing and my heartbeat begins to rise. _C'mon, C'mon! Don't do this to me now!  
_

It opens after a few more seconds and my ribcage expands as I inhale in relief. I quickly start counting the money and placing the ones I got into the small containers. Fumbling a bit with the paper money I hold the small pile out to the customer.

"Here is your change," I say smiling what I hope is not an awkward one.

The woman looks at me with a sour face. "Took you long enough."

My own face nearly twists into a scowl, but I manage to keep it down and bite my tongue. Only an hour or so and I can make a run for it from here. There is only a bit more patience I need to contain. However, as I am repeating the monotonous cycle of selling different products, my mind wanders off a few times so much that I nearly give the customers too large changes.

 _Today, I will need to go to the police station and…_ My thoughts are interrupted when I have to count again. This part of the job is kind of boring.

"Ah! Maki-san!"

My hands freeze on the calculator and my head snaps up to look at the next person online. For a second, I curse every being in the world for letting this person waltz into my workplace all of sudden, but those feelings fade slightly from seeing a bright smile on their face. Slightly.

"…Izuku-kun," I nod with my head and finish serving the customer before him. "Good day to you. How is Gran Torino?"

"He is…" the young boy actually pauses, and a strange expression crosses his face, "doing well."

I can only imagine what that means and look at the things he is willing to buy. I am not even surprised that there are _taiyaki_ packages. I look back up Izuku who is taking out his wallet and looking intensely down at the cash he has with him. Compared to the last time we met, he does not have any scratches or bruises on him.

"He is not overtraining – working you, right?" I am not sure why I am even asking. It would be easier to just send him on his merry way back to Sorahiko's house.

Izuku's shoulders jump up till they reach his ears. "Um, n-no?"

 _What a poor liar,_ I nearly snicker and hide my smile. However, that small amusement is soon wiped away and my face falls into a blank mask. I look back up at him and when he sees that I am not planning on saying anything or looking away he tilts his head in confusion. The action does not waver the emotions that are suddenly boiling in my stomach.

Glancing to the side, I see nobody waiting behind him. The last few customers have gone to wait on the other line and I feel a bit grateful for that – this way the conversation can stay more private. Nobody will see an employer delaying a customer on purpose, nor that I am seemingly bringing personal matters out in here. Though, I am not really sure anymore, if I want this to get personal. Rather, my hands are getting sweaty and I simply wish to get this over with by staying silent.

My mouth opens half-way, but no sound comes out. Whatever it is, the strange force is stuffing everything down my throat. It crushes every last bit of thoughts concerning what I could say at this point and makes me reconsider them.

"I saw videos of you in a Sports Festival," I say calmly, pressing down to print out a reception. "You are much stronger than you look."

 _That is_ _ **not**_ _what you want to say,_ a voice in the back of my head whispers, pouring acid down my back. _Coward._

"T-thank you," Izuku's voice is filled with embarrassment and he rubs the back of his head flustered.

I hand him his change, taking a note of small scars on his outstretched hand. I shouldn't have thought of him as a mere child, after all.

* * *

"Please, miss. There is nothing further that I can do for you. I will have to ask you to leave," the woman behind the desk advices calmly, while keeping her eyes on my frustrated face professionally. However, even I am composed enough to see how severely cold her eyes are.

The office is suffocating, and I am sweating like a crazy. There are others around – the people behind the counters and the ones asking for advice from them on their matters. I am one of those who has waited at the lounging area behind me for nearly twenty minutes, watched the arms of the clock tick forward slower than ever before and now being stared down judgingly by the receptionist. This isn't fair, nor comfortable, but I can't just leave like that just because I am told to. I am a customer, right?

For weeks, months, I have been preparing for this moment. Those many ways that this all could go wrong have been coming in and out of my head like houseguests, but I have ended up with the same direction to go to – this is something I have got to do. But… now that I am here… why am I feeling so powerless and weak?

 _I have… the rights for this_ is what I am trying to tell myself. I have been so confident that that one thought that this rejection is like running into a solid wall. The wind is punched right out of my chest, figuratively of course, but it sure feels like a real fist is digging into my ribcage. I am downright trembling right now.

My hands clench and unclench from where I am clutching papers and incoherent noises form in the back of my throat. "B-but… don't I have the right to know?"

The woman looks down at the other papers she has been given by me and pushes them forward. "…no, you don't."

Yet another slap to the face. My skin is losing its color at a rapid pace. "Why?"

"Miss, you must understand _why_ ," the woman replies with a cold and dry tone that has no emotion. "This is not a simple visit you are asking of us."

Cold – it is suddenly very cold and uncomfortable to sit here. _I should have just known that this would happen at the beginning._ There are fear and uncertainty, but I am also feeling very misjudged – _this is unfair._ This is the first time in my life that I am talking to this woman, but I feel as if she is judging me cruelly right at this very moment.

Before I mentioned my business in here, this she had been polite. Greeting me accordingly and everything. But the further I explained and the more documents I gave her… the darker her face grew. It is like I am staring at a completely new person and she is seeing me the same way.

I was so naïve to think that this would end well for me.

"B-but," my tongue is tangled, "in the eyes of the law, I have the right to see-"

" _No_ , you don't. For this kind of visit request, you would need to fill up more than a few papers and get a permission from higherups," she presses on. However, when I frown, and she sees it her back straightens up. "If… if you do not leave I will call the security."

I am not missing that slightly frightened tone she has – it is impossible to be ignorant of that. Once again, I feel like the air is hit out of me. My face flushes from different emotions and It becomes hard to keep my trembling under control. Tears of frustration burn my eyes and I have to inhale deeply a few times to keep myself calm.

 _This was going to happen anyway._

It was senseless of me to assume anything else. Of course, this woman, anyone on the matter of fact, would be wary of me after spilling the beans. It is a fact that I can't escape, but _-but I was filled with such hope._ Now, the neat documents in my hands are nothing but wrinkled messes.

"I… I will," my voice trails off, there is no confidence left. This woman's stare is so merciless that the words become dead on my tongue.

"Is everything alright here?" A deep voice asks.

I freeze in my seat, seeing a uniform from the corner of my eye. My heartbeat quickens from frantic worry and fear and I nearly stand up from sheer instinct. The woman wasn't kidding when she said that she will call the security. Either she has a button somewhere near her chair or this is just a horrible coincidence for me. Do I and the woman behind the counter look so tense that it is noticeable, then? No, I am pretty sure nobody has noticed – that is not the main issue here, anyway.

But… I wish I could have made this entire conversation go more smoothly and avoided this. Getting kicked out is one of my worst worries and I can't turn my head to face the man.

Before the woman on the other side of the counter can say another damaging word, I stand up. She looks at me and I give her a tight smile but hope she also sees the venom and anger it hides – the hate I am currently feeling towards her.

I don't want to leave yet, not until I get what I came here for, but causing a scene would be no good.

"Thank you," I say flatly and then whirl around, walking towards the exit. The man lets out a sound, but I don't really hear what he is saying. All I want is to get out of this building as quickly as possible.

My insides are boiling.

When I make out of the building, the dry and sunny weather does nothing to lift my mood. It really isn't different to stand outside than inside – I feel stuffy. Shoving the papers in my hand into my bag without minding being careful with them, I let out an angry huff under my breath. However, despite feeling like punching something, I also feel like crying in the middle of this sea of people. My eyes sting violently, and I bite down on my lower lip.

I couldn't do it after all.

Slowly, I turn around to look up at the towering building, feeling my stomach form knots. Honestly, I wasn't full of confidence when stepping in, but I had at least expected that they will give me more than an eviction. At least an acknowledgment that I have the right to see _that_ person, would have been enough. Is this the way they treat everyone else? I think not.

Shaking my head to get rid at least a portion of these emotions, I start walking with a stoned heart inside my upper body. However, the thoughts are not easily pushed away, and I could be speaking under my breath by now. _I couldn't do anything. How weak. Why I couldn't have raised an alarm and embarrassed that woman then and there? Would anyone have listened to me? What would have followed if more people found out about my business there? No doubt, they would have turned me down like that counter lady, too. Of course, that should have been obvious – I was stupid._ I saw how that woman's calm façade had melted the minute I showed her the papers and told her my request. _There is no way that anyone could let me of all people to visit such a person… But…_ I wet my lower lip before biding into it again. It has become hard with dried wounds, but now I am just opening them all up again.

The cars pass by, the people continue passing by and my shoulders hit slightly with some of them. I do not apologize, though. My head is heavy and clouded, no longer muffled by anger. It is completely numb and so are my other limbs. I feel like a heavy sack that is just being dragged forward and it is quite true considering how I am not really paying attention where I am heading to. What good would going to apartment give me, anyway? I have accomplished nothing today. Not with Izuku and not in the police station just now. Am I really such a spineless coward?

My hands clench weakly as I am approaching a road that I have to cross. The direction I am looking at is not forward, though, but the ground. My vision is not focused, and everything seems woozy and unclear.

 _I can't give up._

The muscles clench as my hands tighten into fists weakly. Everything else does not seem to matter anymore.

 _They can't keep me from meeting my-_

"Watch out!"

A voice hollers right next to my ear and I am absurdly pulled back.

A few seconds later a large car screeches right past us and I feel a cold chill travel down my back. The wind is strong, and I feel it caress my pale face and body harshly. My hair twirls around wildly and the breath I was about to take gets stuck in my throat.

I almost got run over.

My legs feel weak and I sink down to the ground, the cries of other people around me lost somewhere in the distance. The arms that had grabbed me by the shoulders have not left and instead grow firmer, as I sink down. However, I almost don't notice those things anymore and stare blankly ahead.

I could have died, just now.

"Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Miss?" A voice asks frantically with worry next to me and I twist my neck slightly to see a pair of solid black eyes staring down at me. He repeats whatever he was saying a second ago. "Are you alright?"

"…" I am silent, staring at him with wide eyes, not blinking. However, when someone mentions calling an ambulance, I snap back to reality. "Y-yes! T-thank you."

"You don't look fine," a woman pipes in with a phone in her hands. "I am calling help."

I stiffen instantly and struggle to stand up, despite the fact that my body is trembling like a leaf in the wind. "N-no! T-there i-is no need! I am fine, just fine. Thank you, but n-no."

"Wait!"

I ignore the calls and make a frantic run for it, face burning. I certainly do not need a trip to another place over something like this. All I need is a nice rest back at my house and forget everything that has happened.

However, my heartbeat is already escalating and after a few feet, I am horribly out of breath. My body has not stopped shaking nor is my mind working clearly, maybe that is why I refused the offer to go to a hospital. The fact that I nearly lost my life plays vividly in my head like a clear film and I feel cold sweat all over my limbs. The world has started spinning once again.

 _I am okay._

The train station is up ahead, and my pace slows down. Although, there is no doubt that I look like a wreck.

The heartbeat does not slow down. The breathing grows more hysterical and tears nearly fall down from glazed over eyes.

It's harder to watch where I am is going.

 _I am okay._

A tear escapes from my eye.

 _I am_ _ **okay**_ _._

* * *

The man watches as the young woman makes a run for it. He panics for a bit, when a fear of another car coming at her pops into his head, but he relaxes slightly when he takes a note of the blue light shining on the other side of the road. She would be fine, but the worry does not leave him just there.

She was clearly shaken by what had almost occurred just now. He had felt her shaking under his touch and she had even collapsed on the ground. Not to mention the woman seemed ready to burst into tears by the way her eyes were red and glossy. The skin on her face had been so pale that the man had been able to distinguish the black rings under her eyes like she hadn't had a good night sleep. There was a yet another warning sign. She was clearly not well, maybe physically but not mentally. He begins to wonder if she was about to walk in front of a car on purpose. There was fear written over her face, but that would be expected after a near death experience.

"Goodness me," the woman who had been ready to call help huffs out, as other people start walking across the road. She is shaking her head disapprovingly and looking towards where the woman had run off to. "I hope that she will be alright."

"Yes," he nods, also hoping the same thing.

However, that is not the only thing filling his mind right now.

The very moment she had turned and looked at him, the man had felt a strike of nostalgia. And it wasn't just any kind of emotion, but as if he has seen her _somewhere_ before. The color of her hair, the color of her eyes and even the small marring of ache scars on her face had made the cogs in his head move. He thinks back to many scenarios where he could have last seen her, but pretty much nothing comes up. She could have been someone he had seen on work, which is highly possible, considering his profession. Or he could have seen her somewhere outside, like the malls or streets. Though, those don't feel that right to him. It has happened in different scenario, he is sure of that.

Something touches his leg and he looks down to see a single, wrinkled paper there. It is white, slightly covered in dirt from the ground and has few tears at the sides.

Now, most people would think of it as a trash. It clearly is worn out and used, so pretty much nobody would be curious and pick it up. But not him. He crouches down and picks it up, even when the people continue walking past him and he misses the blue light.

It is a document with information of a person on it. This could belong to anyone, but the name he is seeing can't be a mere coincidence.

His eyes widen and he stops breathing altogether. The image that had been so unclear in his head comes alight from the haze it has been in and his jaw drops slightly from the realization. He _remembers._ There is no mistaking where he has seen that woman before and pieces are put together.

"Of course," he breathes out.

Not a second later, he is walking briskly towards his workplace. The police station.


	3. Chapter 3: Intoxication and pain

**Reversus12: Honestly, I have made Masako see Izumi as a lot younger person than he really is. It's mostly because of the baby fat around his face, the messy hair, innocent nature and a bit because his voice doesn't sound too mature (sorry, Izuku). Anyway, basically, he could be five years younger than what he really is, or more, in my OC's eyes. Hope you will stick around to read this story till the end.**

* * *

 _I don't care, I love it, I don't care_

 _You're on a different road, I'm in the milky way  
You want me down on earth, but I am up in space  
You're so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch  
You're from the 70's, but I'm a 90's bitch._

 _-I love it (Icona Pop)_

* * *

Chapter 3: Intoxication and pain

* * *

 _A little girl is running, keeping a limp doll in her small hands as high in the air possible. Mad giggles escape past the childish lips that let out strange sounds to dramatize the playing, too. It's a very sunny day, the grass and the leaves are bright green and there is no care in the world anywhere in the atmosphere._

 _It's summer – at least it seems so. In the child's mind, there is no definition for the seasons._

" _And she strikes!" She yells out, diving the toy to the ground before lifting it back high up. "And runs away!"  
_

 _Someone coughs rather violently as if getting a drink into the wrong throat. "I-Isn't she supposed to fight?"_

 _The child's hurried footsteps slow down and then stop. Whirling around to face the terrace on the other side of the yard, the small human pouts and places her hands on her hips. The strands of her hair are messy and pointing to every possible direction, her cheeks are flushed from running, but there is a glimmer in her eyes. The doll is still firmly clutched in her grasp._

" _Akane-chan can't fight when her shoe is missing!" The little girl jumps up and down, emphasizing the importance of her word by holding out the doll with one pink shoe still on. The child stops jumping and starts running around the place again, despite being slightly out of breath. "Akane-chan has to go and find her shoe first!"_

 _Another chorus of sputtering and coughing. "That's why!? Why can't she- OW! My tongue!"_

 _The little girl pauses again from hearing the pained cry but laughs merrily when she sees how the adult has gone and burned his mouth from hot tea. He must have tried to clear his throat with it. An expression of pain is still present on his face, but when he turns and sees the child laughing at him, he too chuckles at the silliness of the situation._

 _Losing interest towards whatever was amusing to her a second ago, the girl bounces off for the second time and continues playing with her doll. Her light pink skirt flutters with every small twirl she does. The garden is filled with flowers in same shades of pale rose. They all were planted a few years ago and are now in full bloom.  
_

 _However, just like with the man sitting on the porch, the child soon gets bored on what she is doing and stops near the entrance of the house. She looks at the man again and sees the male opening up a newspaper with a hum. He is distracted._

 _Grinning and knowing full well that he is supposed to be watching closely to her, the child muffles her mischievous giggles and runs off to the front yard, fully intending to see him have an attack from her missing presence. The yell he would release and the frantic steps thundering around the area in panic… her grin just keeps on widening innocently from the thought.  
_

 _However, when she looks back where she came from to make sure he isn't following, the little child collides with something solid._

 _She smells dust, hears a deep grunt and then falls down to her rear. The doll falls together with her, but she loses the grasp she has on it.  
_

 _The loss of the toy, the feeling of the hard ground, the sudden full view to the blue and white sky make the small girl blink in confusion. Though, her eyes slowly slide down till they see a tall form casting a shadow over her frozen body._

 _There is a person standing before her – an adult – and she doesn't know them. They are on the other side of the wooden fence around the house and the other man is on the other side, still not knowing where his daughter has run off to._

 _Fear seizes the child and tears start to well up in her eyes._

 _The stranger makes a noise in the back of his throat, making her cry out louder. "What a brat."_

 _She flinches. His voice is so deep and rough and makes her lower lip quiver. The tears blur her vision, but there is without a doubt a shade of yellow standing before her._

* * *

Never in my life would I have pictured myself here – this alien environment filled with bitter and sweet scents, loud sounds that can make the couch I am sitting on vibrate and hundreds of colors filling the entire dark room. The club is on a full spin and all I can do is sit still, frozen like a confused animal. That may be being too metaphoric and exasperating considering that I probably don't look so nervous on the outside, but that is how I am seeing myself right now.

The drink that my companions ordered is empty and I think about going up to the bar and ordering some more but decide to simply continue sitting. I might as well pretend to listen to my coworker who has managed to drag me into this place.

Slowly, almost as if in a trance from both the foreign taste of bitter alcohol and the loud music throbbing in my ears, I look at my companion to see her lips moving rapidly. The skin on her face is clearly flushed – even through the flashes of neon pink and green, I can tell. She has had more drinks than I, her speaking pattern has slightly slurred and I can smell her intoxication from the breath she keeps on blowing at me. She doesn't realize it, probably. Her body has leaned back casually, and she doesn't seem to notice how little I am paying attention.

I do not know her, not personally at least. The woman around my age is only a coworker from the store, but she had asked many of us to come to the party. And everyone else called this as a 'workers-night-out-in-a-club', or whatever. I wasn't really listening at the time either.

"I am rather surprised that you come, Maki-san," the woman says suddenly, and I hear her words this time. It must be because she called me by my name. "I was sure that you would decline, like usual."

It's true. Usually, I am not interested in partying or socializing outside of work. Inside that food store, I appear as any other person who is friendly and approachable but as soon as an invitation comes up, I don't want to go.

However, this time is different – I want to drown myself in something else other than suffocating silence of my apartment.

A small smile, real or fake, spreads on my lips. "Well, I thought that once wouldn't hurt. Considering how you always ask me."

She giggles, clearly tipsy. "Your hair looks funny."

"Thanks," my own voice is dry with a bit of humor. Though, I end up unconsciously running my hand through few locks, trying to smoothen them down.

Someone bumps into our table and I jump. It's a man and he waves his hand down at us with a goofy smile. It seems from where I am sitting that his intentions were not really crash into the table, but it's also clear he is drunk and thus unbalanced.

I feel restless and slowly inch closer to the other woman, as if she could shield me, whether it is because I have little experiences dealing with drunkards or the fact that this man reeks hundred times worse than her.

"'ey, 'ey! What are ya twough little galls doing here all lonesome?" His speech is heavily coated with the marks of large alcohol consumption, through the blasting of music. It's worse than my coworker's. "Mind if I keep ya," he hiccups, "company?"

I am about to open my mouth, but the woman next to me suddenly lurches forward and grabs onto my arm with a cheerful smile on her face. "Of course, of course! Sit down and join us!"

Her voice is loud and right next to my ear. I wince and throw her a look, both from the screaming and inviting this clearly not currently sane person next to us.

However, before I can say anything for the second time, the unfamiliar and uncomfortable warmth of the man sits down next to me, pushing me and my coworker further back into the couch. I am starting to sweat, wishing suddenly that I could have drunk more than one cup before this. I don't feel relaxed at all anymore.

The stench of a drunkard is now stronger and my face wrinkles. I half-wish that it can be seen through the flashes of colors from the lights spinning around us. It could probably scare this person off.

"What are yar names?" The man slurs out and I stiffen from feeling his breath on my face.

He is close. Too close for comfort and the hairs on my back stand up. He is large, fitting for someone who was stumbling and struggling to stay up a few seconds ago. A clumsy giant. Although, I can't find any humor in this.

Pushing my weight closer to the woman I am with, I try to squeeze my way over her to the other end of the table and escape from this seat. "I think-"

"I am Tachibana Rin!" She completely ignores my attempts of moving away and pushes me back towards the man. Every bit of flushed color on my cheeks is fading into white, the kind you will find on snow. "This is Maki Masako-chan!"

The muscles on my face twitch and I struggle to push against her, to send a loud message that I don't want to be here anymore. "Tachibana-san, I need to go to the bathroom."

"So, yar name ish Masako-chan, eh?" The man says, also being completely obvious to my discomfort and leans closer. From this proximity, his features are large and firm, giving more uneasy feelings into my gut. He looks like a normal human being, but my skin crawls from the hot and odor-emitting breaths on the side of my face.

My muscles tense to the point of pain, when he reaches out and wraps an arm around my shoulders. My entire being freezes and I can't breathe for a second. When being literally squashed by two people – ones that you don't even know – it feels as if there are walls closing around you. However, I also feel something else – _don't touch me._

This isn't what I came here for. So, why are these people bothering me? Seriously, do I look like a person who knows how to keep up a conversation?

The man's hand moves on my shoulder and I flinch from feeling his fingers stroking my skin. It makes me want to puke and my hands clench tightly into fists. For the first time what is probably a decade I have painted my nails and molded them, but now I pay the price by feeling how they dig into my palms. It's strange when they only motivate me to clench harder and grit my teeth together. The pain is the only thing keeping me sane.

I am trembling.

"Don't touch me," I say loudly enough for the man to hear and forcefully push his hand off. "Tachibana-san, I will be-"

Breath hitches in my throat, when the hand that had previously touched me without permission and in an inappropriate manner returns. It grazes against my right thigh and my eyes widen in horror. My heartbeat was fast enough, to begin with, even before this man came, even before this loud music started to bother me, but now it nearly breaks my ribcage.

I am starting to downright tremble from something else than fear of foreign touch – anger.

"I said don't touch me!" With a violent shove, I sneak over my coworker who yelps and calls out to me. But I don't look back, I am pissed at her just as I am angry towards that man.

They have both gone and ruined my night, not that it was anything grand, to begin with.

Struggling through the mass of sweaty and overly glamorous people, I bump into many swaying bodies. The music is rapid and loud, as usual, and my ears are ringing from both the sounds and the rushing blood in my veins. It is painful, and my head starts hurting. My eyes search desperately for the bathroom and when they finally find it, it's on the other end of the entire dancefloor.

My mood just keeps on getting sourer.

 _In the first place, just for what…_

I start walking against the walls, squeezing my way through the place and keeping my gaze on the floor.

… _am I here for?_

By the time I have made it to the bathroom, I feel like going home. The scent of a mattress and the tea I usually drink instead of the smell of sweat, drinks and overly used perfumes. But in a way, this place is better than my frequent comfort and safe zone.

At least in here, I am not staring at the scattered documents I have gathered and feel that crushing disappointment pierce through my chest.

Smirking without any humor in my mind or face, I turn on the water and start washing my hands, finger scraping against my skin like knives. I want to forget that drunk man's touch, but no matter what I do with my hands, an urge to just submerge somehow into the tiny sink washes over me. The nerves from shoulders to the left arm's skin and from there near the hemline of the dress recall that shameless touch over and over again.

When I raise my head to look into the mirror, the woman I see is barely recognizable.

The dark eyeliner has sharpened grey eyes, made them look more refined. The fullness of the pitch-dark eyelashes hasn't even been washed away by the lone tears that have escaped few times from those very eyes they decorate. Though dark and murky lines trail faintly down foundation covered skin and the suddenly bright light makes it seem like a ghost woman has appeared. The once red colored lips are now dry and chapped, the color has vanished due to biting and nervous sucking of the lips – a new wound has appeared on the corner and it stings.

I can somehow see why the woman called my hair 'funny'. It's an uncontrollable mass of light brown waves that have sharp angles. Even the amount of brushing that I did has not managed to tame the strands. I reach out to touch them and comb my fingers through. My hand is stopped by a knot, just like I was stopped by that woman back at the police station.

My eyebrows knit together and my lips curl. I ignored the stinging I feel from the latter and clench my hands on the sink's edge.

The dress – black with thin straps – is starting to look ridiculous on me.

 _I need a drink._

I need to forget everything, even with the cost of a worse headache in the morning.

* * *

"Wow! Maki-chan! I had no idea that you could drink as much as you did!" My coworker giggles and the others join her with chuckles. And by others, I mean two other women from the same store we work at. "I am sorry that I didn't help with that drunk man, by the way. When he tried to grab me next, I thought I was a goner."

Honestly, forgiving this woman is the last thing on my mind – far from it. She is the one who kept pushing me towards that disgusting pig in the first place quite eagerly. Though, knowing that he also tried molesting her makes me feel a bit better. And being directly angry at her in a car that doesn't even belong to me with a couple other strangers doesn't sound like a good idea.

I let out a laugh, instead, head lolling to the side in a drunkard manner. "It's alright. I am fine."

"You two should be careful, though," one other woman comments from her front seat. "It's quite obvious that men go for the wallflowers first because they look easy."

My gut wrenches from that unnecessary comment and I cross my arms. I am starting to regret that I chose to party together with these women and ask them to take me home. "Yeah, yeah. I _will_ be careful next time."

"Wow. You made her angry," the second woman chirps – literally – her quirk is having a bird's head with a long peak as a mouth – and everyone laughs again, even I chuckle.

With that, I lean against the door and look out of the window. The cold glass feels nice against the side of my head and I press my cheek against it with a quiet sigh. No matter how many times I have seen it, this city's lights are so bright. When I first came here, I thought it was somewhat of a wonderland. But now, it looks so ordinary and normal to me.

The taste of alcohol lingers on my tongue and unconsciously I lick my lips, craving for more. Honestly, all of this is the first time for me. Before coming here, partying in an unknown area, with people I barely know, dressing up and drinking until I can barely think straight would have made me frown in both confusion and refusal. Not to mention my grandpa would have gotten an early heart attack if he ever saw me doing this. Not to mention my grandma would have fainted, if she were she alive when I was old enough to do this stuff. The image of their dumbstruck expressions makes me chuckle with dumb fondness.

This day was fun, that much I can say at this point. The beginning had been terrifying, but now I feel so light and probably could dance through the streets without a care. Not that I would actually do such a thing. Why didn't I start drinking the very second, I became of age?

The next time I go anywhere to do anything tedious, I should take a bottle of alcohol into my system. It has relaxed me to this point.

A smirk appears on my face. _Maybe I should go back to the police station and pay that bitch from the last time?_

That small smirk disappears when the car jerks to a sudden stop. And because I do not have any seatbelt on my entire body flings itself forward and crashes into the seat in front of me. My nose makes a painful contact with it and I cry out.

"Is – is everyone alright!?" The woman driving asks quickly, distress clearly in her voice.

Through my blurry and unfocused vision, I see a giant bird's peak of the other woman whose seat I just crashed into also look to the back with a groan. I rub my nose, slightly worried that it might bleed and for the fact that I am seeing stars dancing on my vision. The inside of my head is hurting for my forehead has also received damage from the surprisingly hard seat.

I try clearing my head and continue holding my nose protectively. "Wghy lhid yah shlop?" Why did you stop?

"What is going on?" The woman – Tachibana Rin – next to me asks and with the same kind of pain that I am in.

"I don't know! There is a line and – Oh. The police are blocking our way."

Curious and peeved at the same time, I lean between the two seats while holding my head in pain. And sure enough, there are at least tens of other cars staying put in front of us. And over their tops there are bright flashing lights and a few men dressed in uniforms are waving their hands – they are instructing the drivers at the very front.

I blink slowly, making sure that I am missing any detail and then lean back with a huff. "How long exactly do we have to wait here, then?"

"Who cares! Do you think that there was another murder around the area?" Rin asks with excitement and starts rolling the window open.

The one driving flinches. "Do not say something so stupid! It might be serious! Someone – ugh! Maki-san, stop her!"

My entire body bristles from the order, but I do reach out and wrap my hands around the woman who is clearly trying to stick her head out of the window. She is quite small compared to me, so pulling her back, tying a seatbelt on despite the protesting and my clumsy and sluggish hands and finally reaching out and rolling the window close happens pretty fast enough.

Once everyone is settled and the one whom I tried to calm down has started to mumble to herself, I look out again and nearly also open my window. However, I start to think of what might have happened. Even before I came here, I knew that this is the area where the Hero Killer usually hunts. Yet another thrilling fact that made a chill go down my bones. However, he is known only to hunt heroes – _which means that we –_ mostly I – _are in no danger, to begin with.  
_

Though maybe it's just my drunkard half talking, I am a bit tempted to go and see what is beyond that line the police have made.

My eyes are starting to close, and my mouth opens without much of a thought.

"Is… there… a corpse?"

Nobody probably hears me or just thinks it's the alcohol in my system.

* * *

The day isn't cold or hot and there isn't anything blocking the evening sun, yet I am finding myself feeling bitter and down.

My fingers are literally trembling individually under the weight of a heavy box. Whatever food product is being contained in it, it certainly weighs more than a pair of flour sacks. Gritting my teeth together, I struggle to make it through an aisle that luckily doesn't have any customers around. However, my grip has slowly started slipping and I am sweating buckets.

For some strange reason, I get this feeling that every time the end of my shift is nearly done, I am given some heinous job. This time, I am supposed to help to move these products to the backroom. But I have to wonder why someone else couldn't do it.

When there is a sound of hurried footsteps coming towards my direction, I ignore them. My back is aching, I am sweaty and all I can think about is going back home and falling asleep. Today was my job interview, too, so I had to switch the shifts with a one who works the evening. As for how the interview went… _I never want to go to another one!_ My skin crawls from the memory and I bite down on my lower lip. The whole thing had been nothing more than a mess. The one judging me had been a stiff looking woman with a glare and thick-framed glasses. She had looked at me with such disapproval that I was sweating buckets and shaking. It isn't like I haven't been on an interview for a job before. How else could I even be walking in this store, anyhow?

Sighing heavily, I am about to make a turn when a voice literally hollers my name: "Hey! Maki-chan!"

"Shizuka-san!" I gasp out and have to crouch to set the box down. With flushed face from the previous strain and tiredness clearly edged on my features, I turn to face my coworker who in return looks at me with anxiety. "What is it?"

"There is some old man asking for you."

My body grows rigid the second she finishes that sentence. "An old man?" She asks again and when the other woman nods, she starts sweating a bit. "With a yellow costume?"

Another nod. "He looked to be a hero of some sort, but I really haven't seen him on Tv before – heck. I don't know if he could still be counted as a hero at that age."

I am walking briskly before she can say another word and yell over my shoulder: "Take those boxes to the backroom for me!"

My heartbeat is rising as many scenarios what might happen soon flash in my mind. I have no idea why Sorahiko could be here of all places. When I saw Izuku days ago, I assumed that he would be the only one who I could run into here. More or less than the old hero would have the guts to actually make his presence known to another staff members like this. The new realization makes my stomach clench – _he has no shame!_

Picking up my pace, I nearly run into a shelf full of tomato juice containers. They rattle from the tremor my knee causes from a bump against the table they are on. I yelp, arms tensed and ready to catch any kind of product that might fall and create a scene.

Today was supposed to the day of rest. Not worrying about my job interview, my job or even my cranky neighbors – just me relaxing on a couch and napping the rest of the night off. That would have been my ideal evening, but now it seems that will be impossible to fulfill. I can practically taste the bitterness spreading in my mouth, on the tip of my tongue. The last conversation the two of us had is still burning in my memory and sends jolts of uneasy throughout my body.

 _What does he want!?_

As soon as the cashiers come into view, a small form in a yellow suit is easy to spot. He is holding onto his staff while the other hand is behind his back as if he can't stand straight anymore. Though, I know better. He is acting. Appearing completely harmless to my coworkers, but I can see the truth perfectly clear where I am standing.

The already flushed skin on my face burns when Gran Torino turns and sees me standing frozen on my spot. My fists clench when there is an obvious tug at the corner of his lips.

"Finally. I was getting tired of waiting for you," he says and walks slowly towards me with a speed fitting for an elderly person. He must be doing it on purpose. "Sloppy service you offer to customers around here. Nobody even offered me a chair."

 _And why should they?_

"What do you want?" I ask, not wanting to start with pleasantries. There is obviously a reason why he is being a hindrance.

Sorahiko raises an eyebrow. "My, is that how you youngsters speak to your elders nowadays?"

My mouth forms a thin line in no mood for games. I can literally feel some curious eyes from the customers left in the shop and probably few of my coworkers have also come and watch what is happening. If this continues any further than needed the manager might come and accuse me of not helping Sorahiko out – though, the question still stands. Why is he even here? It is a simple question that I want an answer to.

The old man must notice the expression on my face and lets out a sigh. "Do you have time? I would like to speak with you."

The already deep frown – _when did I start frowning?_ – deepens on my face. Somehow, I do not like the serious tone he is using and cross my arms. An option of lying smoothly and sneaking out crosses my mind, but a gut feeling prevents me from thinking further. Sorahiko is not a simple old man, he would come after and find me later, definitely peeved that I made a run for it. But the more I keep on glaring at him, the sourness I am starting to feel.

I keep on thinking how professionally this situation should be handled. Honestly, my instincts are telling me to just tell him to leave. We have had teatimes twice and that should be enough, not to mention the letter I handed him from grandpa. Those times were more than enough for me.

"…My shift ends, soon. I will see you outside, then," I end up blurting out, ignoring how my insides are twisting in distaste.

Let's just hope that after this the old geezer will not cross paths with me, again.

* * *

The moment I step out, I stop at the door closes behind me. It doesn't take long for me to spot a small lone figure sitting on a nearby bench and looking far away to a scenery before it. The store is on a high ground, so it is sometimes like standing near an edge of a cliff and down below there are other house and buildings buzzing with life. Though, currently, I am not seeing any of that wonder and clench my hand around my backpack.

Slowly, almost robotically, I walk next to Sorahiko and sit down with a heavy sigh. I may be acting too relaxed, but I also feel as if I should get to the point.

"What is it?" I ask, breathing the question out with clear tiredness on my tone.

"Would you consider moving back to Hokkaido?" He asks frankly, not a bit of hesitation in his gruff voice.

I nearly choke on my own spit and I stare at him with wide eyes. He turns his head and looks back at me with a serious gaze through the black mask he is wearing. "Wh-why are you asking? Are you serious?"

Sorahiko huffs. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't be asking."

My eyebrows knit together, hiding any kind of shock that I might still be experiencing. My hands clench the fabric of my pants. "…I won't go back."

 _Not yet, at least._

The old hero looks at me from the corner of his eye for a second, before moving his staff and doodling to the ground. The action confuses and irritates me, but I decide to merely lay back and be lost in my own thoughts – it isn't like I have anything better to do now. The sun is even setting, so might as well watch it.

Returning back to my old home is tempting. So much so that I have been thinking of it many times for the past few months that I have been here. Homesickness hurts, it has made me cry so many times in the beginning and now it has been resumed to a simple ache in my chest. Truthfully, my old hometown was much more peaceful than this hectic environment. There was more nature, old people and fewer cars and metallic vehicles. Not to mention, I think that the stars shone the brightest back there.

A hazy picture of an old smiling man appears in my head and I bite down on my tongue. My grandparent didn't give a simple letter delivery to me. He must have known what I truly wanted to do this far from my home, despite the fact that this is also the place I wished not to return to. This all was probably only his way to give me a final push forward. I wish that I could have asked that from him, though.

I raise my eyes to the orange sky. If grandpa truly wanted me to come here and do what I have to do and let me look at this sunset from this seat, then he surely has succeeded.

"If this is all you wanted to say, I will be going," I say and stand up. _Why did I stay this long?_

However, before I have even taken two steps, Sorahiko calls out. "Masako, this city is not safe for you."

"I am pretty sure that no city is safe, generally," I comment bluntly and turn around to face him. For some reason, I feel irritation rising, when I look at the old hero and cross my arms. "And since when do you get to decide what is safe or not for me?"

"There were multiple attacks back in Hosu two days ago and I do not feel ensured of your safety," he continues, not wavered by my tone.

My mind pauses and goes back to the night with my coworkers. The drunkenness, the thrill, the sudden stop by the police – everything comes back, and I space out for a few seconds. I had seen it on the news, too, the next day from taking a day off because of a horrible hangover. According to the reporter, the Hero Killer was captured.

I bite down on my dry lower lip once and sigh with tiredness. "Yeah, I know. I was there."

" _What_?"

I freeze, realizing too late that I shouldn't have brought that up. Now, that I look back at Gran Torino he has his eyes wide open and looks at me up and down as if I could have an injury or something. The wooden staff that is supposed to 'help' him walk nearly slides from his clutches.

Raising my hands quickly as if to show him that I am fine, I say: "Look, nothing happened. I was fine. The police were there, and I arrived at the scene after whatever happened was over."

The elder man doesn't look satisfied. "What were you doing there in the first place?"

I raise an angry eyebrow from his accusing tone. "Well, I am sorry that I have to tell a stranger everything that goes on in my life – it's none of your business! And what gives you any right to come and talk to me like this? It's not your place to butt into my life _nor_ where I live _or_ where I go."

"It's damn well my business!" He raises his staff, the end nearly poking me in the face. I recoil back, shocked that he might even point it at me. "Do you have any idea what that letter you gave me had? It was your grandfather's last wish that I would watch over you if something were to happen!"

The spit in my mouth dries away. My limbs turn numb from a strange bolt of emotion that pierces my core. _Grandpa?_ The memory of him handing over the letter in his thin frail limb comes back – that smile he gave me…

Every bit of softness on my expression hardens. "Why would he request something like that? 'If something were to happen'? What part of these Hosu attacks are linked to me that it has made you think of directing me back to Hokkaido? This is nonsense! Stop trying to bring him up every time that it's convenient for you."

Sorahiko bristles. "Convenient? This old man is simply being worried about not being able to ease his deceased friend's worries and you say that?"

"It does not matter what my grandpa wrote to you," I hiss out, barely containing my shaking. "What matters, is that you leave me alone and not stick your nose somewhere where it doesn't belong to!"

"There is no need to yell," he says, but with a hidden undertone. The hand on his staff clenches. "The entire block will hear you."

My face flushes. "Good! I don't give a damn!"

The raising of my voice must have snapped something in him because Sorahiko suddenly jumps on the chair and points his staff at me for the second time. "I am not here to pick a fight with you, Masako, but continue with this attitude and I will!"

I do not believe him, the 'not picking for a fight' thing. My skin crawls like there are worms underneath it and I shudder, goosebumps forming on every part of my skin. "Then, don't bring this up _ever_ again. I don't want to hear whatever you want to say about this. Not to mention," I inhale deeply to calm my uneven breathing, "you said that this isn't your business. _Remember_?"

"…" He falls silent, finally wordless. But there is a grim look on his face, which is oddly satisfying. However, he suddenly sharpens up again and jumps down to the ground with surprisingly youthful reflexes. His eyes turn up swiftly and he once again raises that staff of his. "You may be right about that, but it was before I truly understood your circumstances. There is no way that I can simply sit around and know that my friend's granddaughter is struggling."

"I. Am. Not. Struggling. I told you not to speak like you know everything," I growl out, not understanding why this old man doesn't just give up. Long gone is his intimidation and all I can see is an annoyance.

"You are correct on that, as well. I do not know everything, but I do know those who are closest to you."

My gut twitches from a small detail – he didn't single out gramps but meant more than one person that I am acquittanced with. "Can I go already?"

The retired hero's forehead wrinkles more and there is a vein bulging on it. "Are you even listening?"

"Not interested in listening anymore," I say back without any intention of taking my words back this time. "I am just about done with hearing you talk about this. I already told you 'no' to your question. I don't care of your opinion if that didn't come out clearly the first time. So, why are we even still talking?"

Sorahiko stares at me for a while, his eyes looking me up and down as if seeing me for the first time. Then, he lets out a huff under his breath and looks to the side with a faraway look. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for my chance to finally leave. The sun is almost gone.

The old hero sighs. "You used to be much more gullible when you were a brat."

I stiffen, clearly not expecting that kind of comment. But then, I flush – not from embarrassment, but from frustration and cross my arms again. Though, a sudden, vague and blurry nostalgic scene appears in my mind. It's clearly from far away in my past, the childhood times when I was playing around. And in those memories, there is an image of a man with rather bright yellow clothes. I remember him simply walking and walking and the confusion I felt at the time – it still does, now that the mild flashback is over.

I mentally shake my head, wondering why I am even recalling this now. "Shut up, already. Do you not have anything better to say?"

Now, my own words seem to anger the old man. "Fine! If I call someone, then maybe that will make you listen to reason!"

I frown from his words cockily. "Oh? And who could that be? The police?"

"Don't play a fool. You still have relatives around."

The time stops, and my spine stiffens until it's as straight as an arrow. My eyes open wide and the lower part of my mouth lowers. And all this happens the whole time Sorahiko keeps his old gaze on me with firmness and a hidden promise in his steel-like eyes. It's funny – a second ago I could hear a distant sound of cars, but now all I can hear are my loud heartbeat and breaths.

This is the last thing I ever thought that Sorahiko would resort to. Frankly, I had thought that he knew enough not to bring this up, but now… I feel as if a bucket of cold ice has been dropped down on me. _C-calm,_ I swallow a lump forming in my throat, _I have to stay calm._ With shaky fingers, I adjust the backpack on my shoulders, trying to appear composed and hide any kind of expression on my face. Though, it proves to be impossible. The cold shock is starting to fade, and a boiling mass of lava enters my veins.

Clenching my fists, I grit through my teeth with venom: "If you _ever_ make _that_ person aware that I am here," I am shaking, seeing anything is becoming nearly impossible, "then, I will…"

 _I will what?_ The fists I formed are trembling, but I don't stop glaring. The words are stuck in my throat and it has become hard to breathe. The sun is down already and it's getting really dark out here.

My face remains stoically angry as I raise my head. Sorahiko is looking at me with a frown, but it does not have any anger or even a hint of irritation on it. Instead, he appears puzzled and steps closer, I mirror his movements by backing away.

" _He_ wants to protect you, even now," the old man says calmly, but there is still a hint of that irritation from earlier. "I am not talking about your grandfather."

My throat constricts. I can't look at him in the eye anymore and turn my head away. It's now dark and clouds are thick and cover the sky – the street lights have been put on and they cast a shadow before me. I feel suddenly very hot flashes pass through my body. My mind is blank, but it's filled with Sorahiko's echoing words and my shoulders slump down. It's not from defeat.

In the end, all I can do is lift my head up and say emptily: "Shut up."

He blinks, slowly, and then his frown deepens. "… Masako, have you been drinking?"

The question doesn't make me even flinch. Instead, I look at the old man to see him frowning at me – he must have come close enough to smell the alcohol.

A small smile spreads on my lips. _He only notices now?_

"Maki-chan!" A clear voice yells out and I turn to see one of the workers from the shop. It's Rin and she smiles at me from the distance, under the streetlight. "Do you want to walk together?"

I blink and then walk towards her, half-escaping from Gran Torino and half-satisfied from getting to yell at him. The blood is running through my veins with such speed that I can feel and hear my heartbeat. However, even when further away and him not calling for me to come back, I recall his words until they turn into a muffled mess in my head.

Even while out of his house, even while I have intoxicating liquid in my system, I feel conflicted. The alcohol has made me bolder, less hesitating and right now I am not thinking of turning back. Instead, I have a strange urge to laugh and have to struggle not to show it to Rin who waits patiently. There is a bubbling sensation building up inside my chest and it becomes harder and harder to control it.

My coworker is looking at me quizzically and my mouth twitches. For some reason her expression is amusing, and I chuckle good-naturedly. The thoughts of Sorahiko are vanishing, though, he has left his marks on my mind for the second time.

Whatever this amusement I feel is – or is it even that? – it doubles, and my smile widens almost painfully.

"Let's go."

"Who was that?" Rin asks when we are an earshot away from the former hero. She looks over her shoulder curiously and then directs her gaze to me.

I don't look at her, keeping my gaze forward and fight an urge to grab a half-empty bottle of liquid in my bag.

 _I have family left?_

In the end, I sigh. "Nobody. Just some acquittance of someone I know."

Rin hums, sounding like she is losing interest from that answer. "Hmm. I was sure he was your grandpa or something."

My chest throbs softly and I ignore it. It's my turn to hum and then continue walking in silence. However, a weak, barely apparent smile appears on my face. _Nobody is protecting me._

At first, I thought it was me, but now I think that Sorahiko is the one with a twisted view of how things have played on in this life of mine.

That explains why I felt like laughing at his face a moment ago – I was so angry that I didn't know what to do.

* * *

"But you were talking to her. Hanabusa-san, I do not think it's our policy to turn away civilians with such manner."

"You do not understand, sir," the woman with her hair gathered up into a bun sighs with exasperation. "What that woman was asking is impossible for us to fulfill. If she wants to have the permission, then going straight to the government would be better."

The man doesn't say anything to that and looks down at the documents in his hands. They are the reports, specifically from this woman who has gathered info on the recent. He flips through them, lost in thoughts while listening to the other people in the office tap the keys of their keyboards and watching the screens of their computer. It's pretty much the same as any other day.

Expect for the woman before him looks ready to slam her own device shut and walk away. Her eyebrows are kitted to a frown, beats of sweat run down the side of her face, the frantic tapping of her fingers are not missed nor the writing mistakes she keeps on doing. She pushes a straying strand of hair behind her ear, managing to make it look natural.

The man does not leave, though. He continues looking through the papers with interest and pauses on a certain page, eyes narrowed. "Maki Masako."

Nobody doing their own part of the job seems to exactly know what is going on. But after hearing the name they get interested and slow down their writing process. A man passing by even falters in his steps from hearing that name, though, he does not seem to recognize it.

They are all simply wondering why the atmosphere between these two is so intense.

The woman's hand stop typing for a split second, but then continue as if nothing unusual has happened. "Now, do you understand why I couldn't do it?"

The man lets the page fall back to its place and looks up. "No, Hanabusa-san, I do not. The name should be more than enough to have made you try and help her."

The typing stops completely, and the woman raises an eyebrow at him, shaken from his words. She places her hands on her lap and twists the chair to turn and face the man with her back straight as an arrow. He meets her gaze evenly, waiting patiently what will happen next.

The woman emphasizes her point by firm hand movements. "Sir, under these circumstances, there is no way anyone in my position would have been able to help. She was persistent and wouldn't have left had not the officers come."

"The security camera shows you obviously denying further service for her after two minutes. That isn't a long time for someone to be persistent enough on the matter they came for," the man leans back on his feet and looks back down at the papers. "Did you even explain to her in detail why this is a difficult case for us and her."

Even while not looking, he can tell that the woman flushes. "The situation was handled, _sir_. Also, I do not see any reason for you to interrogate me when you are so obviously trying to get information on that woman. Is she a suspect of a recent case?"

He doesn't show a thing on his expression, even when the question makes him want to frown. "No, she is not."

The muscles on her face twitch, either from disappointment or relief. "Then, I do not think we have to discuss this any further."

"One more thing," the man says and then places the papers down. He ignores the look the woman gives him. "Could you search through other police station databases and look whether she has been recently visiting them as well?"

She frowns and crosses her arms. "Do you have a warrant on her head or something? Because giving up that kind of information without proof of an investigation and a very good reason isn't what we strive for."

The man doesn't blink and meets with her steel eyes with his own. The black pupils are so dark, that it makes it seem he has no irises. It's unwavering stare and his voice does not hold any hesitation in it whatsoever. "We do not strive for driving out civilians just because of their backgrounds either."

The tension rises and the other workers nearby shuffle away in a hurry from the obvious thickness in the air. Those who aren't still done with their work on a computer have to sit still, though.

The woman is obviously uncomfortable again. She looks back to her computer's screen and starts absentmindedly moving the mouse.

"What is your e-mail? I will send the information there."

The corners of the man's lips twitch up.

* * *

"…and I was like _so_ ready to pour the milk down her face!"

Both Rin and I laugh out loud, shoulders shaking from the strange amusement we are feeling. It feels great – the laughter bubbling out of me is like a release of everything that I have been holding back. I do not really remember when the last time was, I laughed this much. Ever since one funeral – grandpa – I have had not had this much fun.

My shoulders are shaking, but I do not care how messed up I look to the others in the bar. I grip the cup filled with strange alcohol, I do not remember what the bartender called it. It doesn't really matter, though. The cool liquid tastes sweet and I gulp it down in a few seconds.

Also, I have found out something about Rin and that is that we get along. She is not as annoying as I originally thought. Actually, even now I want to hit myself for even think that she might be a parasite or something close it at least. She is funny, and her sense of humor is not far from mine. Back at my old home, there were only a few people like that, so this feels really nice.

Inhaling deeply to catch my breath and wipe my warm and wet face, I lean back comfortably. "I remember when once a few years back some of our neighbors went to a local bar to party, but the next morning my grandpa had to drive a half-naked man out of our property with a broom."

Rin snorts, but then barks out and claps her hands. "Your grandpa sure sounds interesting. Mine is only drinking booze and avoiding going to an elderly home. I swear, his liver is made out of iron."

"Shouldn't we be worried about our health, then?" I ask, swirling the remaining liquid in my cup.

The brunette and I make an eye contact with blank faces, then say at the same time with a shake of our heads: "Nah!"

The bar is nice. It isn't too remote and has plenty of public places surrounding it. Some might even call it a tourist attraction itself, but currently, there are only me, Rin and a couple few others scattered around the inside of the building. There is a soft music coming from all around the place, but nobody is really dancing. Some drunk is swaying in his seat, though.

I take my last sip. This isn't really what grandpa would have approved of.

"So, tell me, what made you decide to move here?" Rin suddenly asks.

My head tilts back, almost limply. I am staring at the ceiling for a while, lost in thoughts. "My grandpa died, and I didn't want to stay in the house anymore."

"O-oh, I am so sorry," Rin's voice falters from the cheery demeanor I am used to by now.

I wave my hand dismissingly. "You didn't know. Besides, it has been months since, then."

"Still, I shouldn't have asked so carelessly," she mumbles, sounding a bit guilty, like a kicked puppy.

My eyebrow rises up and I look at her with a full-blown grin, shoulders shaking for the second time. "Honestly, after asking each other of our bathroom mannerisms, I am pretty sure we are past pleasantries and being careful."

She barks out a laugh again, not the kind of giggle I heard days ago in a bar on the other town. "That is true! Hey, wanna exchange phone numbers?"

"Sure."

"Wanna order more drinks?"

I shouldn't. My brain is muffled, it's like having a giant cotton ball, instead of real flesh inside the skull. This is the second time in my life that I have been in a bar, drank alcohol and I should be smarter than this. But I am not – I do not give a damn if this place is far away from my apartment and I have to walk back there in the middle of the night.

The alcohol has made me go numb. The feelings that I am letting out flood like water over a bridge that is trying to keep itself together. There is barely logic in it, but I feel like I could be that giant mass of water, right now. I could run through the streets without a care, without a worry. For me, that would be a _luxury_.

So, in my half-sane state of mind, I raise my hand. "Two for me."

Forget everything, forget your worried, your tears, your anger and just don't care what will happen if you do. Those are the words filling my head.

I will probably regret all of this later, though.


	4. Chapter 4: Pictures of Reality

**Randomguyperson: Thank you for the comment, although I am not too sure what it means. Still, I hope you enjoy reading this story and this new chapter.**

* * *

 _Trippin' out  
Spinnin' around  
I'm underground, I fell down  
Yeah, I fell down_

 _I'm freakin' out  
So where am I now  
Upside down  
And I can't stop it now  
It can't stop me now_

 _-Alice (Avril Lavigne)_

* * *

Chapter 4: Pictures of Reality

* * *

 _I can't get out of bed – my body refuses to. The sun is shining outside, but the curtains have been drawn firmly shut and no light is radiating inside my room. The temperature is low, and a bunch of goosebumps keeps on rising up to my arms whenever I move and feel how little warmth there really is. I do not even bother wrapping myself with a blanket I am laying on top of to warm myself._

 _The time has moved on slowly and I am not exactly sure if I have been laying around for hours or a few minutes. All I know is that there is a thirst in my mouth, but I don't want to get up and get away from the barely small comfort this room is providing me. And despite the comfort being barely there, it is still something. More than what the outside world can provide anyway. Also, if I step out of this dark place, there is a high chance that I would break immediately._

 _Someone is knocking onto the door. This isn't the first time, but I am not flinching from the sound anymore. Even when the person on the other side tries to twist and pull on the knob, the door won't budge and that also gives me a tiny grain of relief._

 _Curling into a ball and once again shivering, I hug the object I am clutching close to my chest. I close my eyes tiredly._

" _Masako, are you still there?" A voice asks and the knocking pauses. "If you are, can you answer me? Please?"_

 _ **Go away.**_

 _I can hear the worry in the person's tone but remain still and my lips are drawn into a firm line. I can feel how my skin crawls from the mere thought of giving the person on the other a satisfying answer and doing as they request. My entire ten-year-old being is screaming to merely stay silent and unmoving and uncaring whatever hysteria is going to occur on the other side of that door._

 _However, instead of my face forming an ugly glare at nothing, it twists into something weaker as the knocking starts again in a more frantic manner. I start crying, something I didn't think would happen after doing so just a few moments ago. But now the tears start naturally burning the already dry enough eyes and bury my face into the pillow in desperation to muffle up my weeping. I do not care, when there is no oxygen and I start seeing colors behind my tightly closed eyelids, especially not when the suffocation feels uncomfortable and my body wants to tear away. I just want to fall into an eternal unconsciousness._

 _ **Just…**_ _I grit my teeth again when the knocking goes through the ringing in my ears._ _ **Go away!**_

" _Masako!" The voice shouts, not angrily, though. It sounds worried again, extremely so. "Please answer!"_

 _Something within me snaps. Like a rope that has been pulled too hard from two different sides, or like a mirror that can only stand pressure for so long before it cracks and breaks. The tears on my face are from an emotion that I can only pinpoint as 'pain', but now in a second, they are tears that I let out involuntarily in anger, too._

 _I have risen before I can even think. I am sitting, shoulders rigid and up to my ears, lips parted and uneven breaths escaping past them._

" _Go away!" I scream, hands clenching and unclenching around the blanket. Whatever I had been holding in my embrace a second ago is now carelessly laying on the floor. Forgotten, when I see nothing, but red._

 _The knocking pauses for the second time. "Masako… please. I just want to talk. We can –"_

" _I said go away! I hate you! I don't want you here! Just go away!" The scream is just as painful to my throat just as painful I wish it is to the one behind that door._

 _However, the anger within shimmers and my limbs start twitching – I do not know how to use them to express what I am feeling._

 _There is so much I want to say face-to-face, but my legs won't move, nor do I lift myself up and walk to the door and open it. Instead, I merely stay on the floor and slam my fists finally to the ground helplessly, digging my nails into my palms. The pain does nothing to calm my distorted thoughts and body language. I just feel pain all over my body._

 _ **Why? Why didn't you do a**_ _ **thing**_ _ **?**_ _Is what I want to ask, but I already did and the answer that I had gotten was… too painful. I do not understand or even remember anything from that blurry event, that conversation, that took place outside of this room of mine._

 _The mental conversation happening in my head continues with me hoping that someone else can hear them, too._ _ **You can do something, now. Why haven't you done it? Why didn't you save us? Why did you let everything be torn away from me? I don't want this. Aren't you hurting as well? How can you do this to us? It hurts so much. How could you abandon me and…?**_

" _Go away," my shoulders slump and the words are grit out of my small mouth pathetically. The voice I use is raspy and so small that it can barely be heard. My shoulders start shaking._

 _The entire world has come crashing down and not even the one who has caused this can mend and glue the pieces back together. It's obvious that the person behind the door_

" _I hate you… Go away."_

 _The last thing I recall as an adult is the sound of heavy footsteps fading behind that same door that had been my barrier. And as for the object that I had held close to my chest… I can only recall it being a picture of someone precious._

* * *

As I am placing different noodles on the shelves, I become very aware of a pair of eyes weighing heavily on the back of my head. Honestly, it's both confusing and frustrating, but I keep on arranging like nothing is wrong. And yet, even when over twenty minutes have passed and of me glancing towards the clock during that time, the gaze does not fade or look away.

And so, having had enough of the silence, I turn around and raise an eyebrow. From my action, Rin stiffens and glances to the side nervously, but then immediately looks back at me with two cans of tomato juice in her grasp.

Seeing that she doesn't dare to start a conversation, I tilt my head and quirk up the corners of my lips.

"Is something wrong?"

Her mouth opens but then closes, before repeating the pattern a few times. Then, the pair of brown eyes look at me with a small spark in them and a hesitant smile makes its way up to Rin's face. "Are you alright?"

The aisle falls into another silence for a short moment – our eyes meet, and I find the words dying on my tongue. The other woman's gaze doesn't falter, but an expression close to regretting forms on her features and she once again glances away for a short period of time. She has finally broken the ice and seems to regret it a bit judging by everything I am seeing in her appearance.

Slowly, I turn towards the shelf and let out a sigh. "I didn't get too great of sleep last night."

"Eh? Again? Masako-chan, do you have insomnia?" Rin asks bluntly and follows me when I start making my way to the next shelf on the other side of the store with a box in my hands. "You should try drinking milk with honey."

I snort and let out a small laugh at the end. "That is the oldest trick in the book."

"It works fine with me," she defends herself and then helps me arrange other food products to their places. "By the way, did you hear about the Hero Killer?"

My stomach drops, and I shake my head tiredly without looking at her. Without even her knowing, Rin has managed to sour my mood, even though her tone sounds curious and cheerful. She is a gossip girl and that is why I have managed to hear all kinds of strange things over the course of this half-week that we have spent our time together from her mouth.

But, of course, I also watch the news. So, this information doesn't come as a surprise, but as an old piece of news that I watched a few nights ago. It had been both a shock and a relief, but over the time the mere mention of it out in the streets' magazines and newspapers has become dull. Still, the mere mention of the murderer makes my skin crawl – who wants to hear about that kind of person on a daily basis?

"This again? Not you too, Rin. They talk about this enough in the news," I say heavily, hand unconsciously tightening around a bag of chips.

She shrugs with a small smile. "But it's so crazy. Do you have any idea how many pro heroes he managed to kill before Endeavor put an end to him?"

"…I haven't exactly been eager to count bodies," is my dry answer, but a small pang hits my chest as soon as the words leave from my mouth. That came out a lot crueler than how it sounded inside my head.

However, Rin speaks again before I can. "Do you also know that the Hero Killer attacked _that_ night?"

Once again, my mouth runs dry and the meaning behind her words becomes obvious. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. She is talking of that party night when I accepted her invitation for the first time and it happened less than a week ago. Of course, the memory is still fresh in my mind, especially after I picked the pieces and put them together. And now being reminded of what had occurred in that same area during the time inside the car makes my gut clench uncomfortably.

When she sees my reaction, she glances around before looking at me again, leaning closer and whispering: "We could have been just mere feet away from a murder scene!"

"Rin!" I look around as well, expression twitching violently. Noting that the store is surprisingly empty, and no other coworker is around to hear this, I let out a sigh.

The smile drops slightly from her face and she raises an eyebrow at the reaction she has gotten. "What? It's so… just so… freaky!"

 _More like morbid,_ I bite down on my tongue and then straighten up. Honestly, despite my outer appearance showing dislike towards this subject, there is an itch in my chest. True, it is exciting to think how close I had been to a murderer, but I can only say that now in this store where everything is familiar to me. Back in the car, I am not so sure how everyone would have reacted if they had known what had happened to stop the road. _It was terrifying._ Although, to begin with, I am not really that interested what happened or happens to that man.

What I am interested in is if the one person who was also reported later to be part of that incident is a fact. I can very well recall the shock I felt go down my spine the moment I recognized that messy mass of green hair and a nervous pair of equally green eyes on the screen. _Izuku-kun… just what the heck was he doing there, to begin with? Was it because of Sorahiko? Should I go and visit him and find out?_ I almost shake my head from the last idea – since speaking with that old hero in the park, we have not made a single contact with each other, or rather he hasn't with me. Meeting with him because I have questions about this event would be disastrous, no matter how much this has been bothering me for the past few days.

The news has also made it clear that there are still questions about his upcoming trial on the crimes he has committed. But it's doubtful that the sentence or the judge will be lenient on him. In some cases, the criminals are given a certain amount of years to be behind bars and recuperate and rethink their deeds. And in others, what they have done is so heinous that they would be locked up over decades – that in itself is a death sentence…

A sharp tug in my ribcage halts my hands from picking up another product from the box.

Looking down at the corner of the shelf, I purse my lips. I am not sure what his motives were to kill all those people, but I can't help thinking and questioning what it was. Was it to help someone? Was it to fulfill only his own desires? Even when I had first seen the articles and the news from Tv, these are the questions that had instantly just stuck themselves into me.

However, when I am thinking about starting a deeper conversation with Rin, I notice that she has begun to smile a bit, again. There is a phone in her hands, too, and she is quickly tapping something with it. Seeing that she has no worries about being caught by the strict manager of this store and that our discussion has stopped, I let out yet another heavy sigh.

"Just… continue arranging the shelves, please," I wave my hand dismissingly.

Despite Rin being fun at some points, I currently feel extra tired from just talking with her. It may just be because this just isn't my day or I slept horribly, again.

"Hey, Masako-chan."

I turn around, but then yelp, when a giant and angry red face stares at me with bright yellow eyes. Long pinkish tongue hangs out of the mouth with sharp white teeth and my own mouth drops in horror from seeing this.

However, as soon as the emotion of fear comes it goes away and is replaced with irritation. "Rin! Quit using your quirk at work!"

The terrifying face dissolves into smoke and a familiar grinning face replaces it. "Haha! You should have seen your face!"

* * *

It is early, _very_ early during the morning.

I am standing outside a police station for the second time during this month and the papers are hidden in my bag that I clutch closer to my chest for the second time as well. It's as if I am looking for safety from this action and feel how the palms of my hands are getting sweaty, despite the fact that I am only wearing a pair of jeans and a thin jacket with a simple T-shirt under it.

But I am not going in. In fact, I have already been inside and got the same answer as last time. Maybe that is why I can't move but am rooted to the pavement I am standing on, hands shaking and eyes unwavering from the ground.

" _I apologize, miss. There is nothing I can do."_

My hands clench from recalling those exact words directed at me by the man behind the desk. Despite clearly being in a different location, she shouldn't expect a different service.

The morning is not exactly bright either. The rain has soaked everything during the night and now there are many puddles covering nearly every spot on the ground where the people are stepping on. It's a busy hour nonetheless and many are rushing past others to get to their destination the fastest. Even if drops of dirty water has managed to splatter across someone's brand new shoes, it wouldn't be noticed in a rush – that is just how much everyone is occupied in their thoughts.

However, unlike them, my time has stopped moving forward. I am staring down at the ends of my own footwear and can see almost every individual stain that is covering them. There is a reason why my vision is more than a bit blurry at the moment.

 _Fuck them all._

Slowly, robotically, I reach out and wipe my eyes, feeling how the invisible weight on my shoulders are pressing me down – I had no luck today either. It is only the second time, but it is like someone has punched me into my own stomach and dug out my intestines.

Whirling around, I decide to head back towards my apartment but pause when I see a bar nearby. It is in the middle my point of view and naturally, my legs start taking me there as if I am in a daze and can't think for myself where to really go to.

As soon as I step in, there is a shout: "Welcome!"

I sit down on the first seat I see, shrug off my coat and order the first drink that comes into my mind, fully intending on drowning myself with alcohol – it has become my only escape route.

The bar looks decent with the wood covering every furniture and visible four walls. A long and green mat is spread across the floor to lead the way deeper into the place, but I am sitting near the door next to the cashier and the bartender who has started working on my order. Despite the place being quite spacy and having room, I notice immediately how a small number of people are inside. Besides me, there are at least two others sitting at different ends of the entire bar.

"Most of my customers left hours ago," the man says suddenly and pushes the drink towards me, "all of them hungover from last night."

I hum as an answer and take my first sip, not really interested in what he is saying. I would be like those drunkards that left from here soon enough. And then I would definitely be stumbling out of this place and crawl my way to the nearest taxi or metro to get back to my house… if I could even make it out of the door. This won't be my only drink tonight.

Rubbing my forehead as if I am getting a headache, I lean back and try preoccupying myself somewhat.

"…Are you alright?"

The bitter liquid – _why did I order this again? –_ nearly goes down a wrong throat. There it is, the question of the year. I am immediately reminded of how Rin had questioned me a day before and let out a sigh – I am doing that a lot lately.

" Tired," is my simple answer and then I dig up my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. Maybe with this, the bartender won't disturb me, is what I think and hope.

"Are you new around here? Most of the people who come to this place are regulars from around the area."

I cross my legs, trying to seem comfortable, despite feeling anything but that. Being questioned like this suddenly after a rough morning gives a bad taste into my mouth. Lifting my eyes sharply, I look up at the man with the blankest and the most tired expression I can muster.

"I only started drinking recently. Though, this is the first time I am in this bar," my voice sounds firm and there is hope that the bartender will leave me alone after hearing that once again. I also start tapping more firmly on the symbols on my phone and skim through yet another set of news articles. There is soft music coming from the speakers on the corners of the bar, but it is so silent that I can barely concentrate or hear it while lost in my own thoughts.

Finishing the first glass, I push it towards the man. "Another one, please."

"Will I be making a third one as well?" He asks but starts working, nonetheless.

I merely shrug and continuing streaming online via my phone, completely obvious to anything else around me. Luckily, the man leaves the brief conversation at that and serves me the second glass without a word.

However, as soon as it becomes silent and only another customer's coughing echoes around the walls, I start looking around the place in mild curiosity. It has both westernized and Japanese style to it; pictures of capitals from Europe hang from the patterned surfaces, but there are a bunch of crimson fans lined up next to them as well. An extra touch has even been added by newspapers framed and placed all over the place. There is a one next to me on the corner of the bar, too, and I start to read it. ' _The end of Sand Storm,'_ is what has been written in bold letters as an article.

I look up to see another old news article above it and it reads: ' _Shaker Shook captured.'_ The name makes me frown and I blink in confusion. However, when I look at the picture on it, the name kind of makes sense to me. The man on it is wearing a mask, but he looks beaten up and his knees are locked together as if he is about to topple over and I can imagine he was shaking when this image was taken.

However, now that I pay closer attention, every picture on every newspaper around here seems to have a picture where the person is one or other way either in prison clothes, chains or just looks plainly bruised and injured. _Are all of these about… villains?_

Truly intrigued, I forget my drink for a moment on the table and start walking towards a wall that has a whole bunch of framed newspapers. They indeed have the same theme to them from being captured to crimes they have committed and every single one has been arranged by the publishing year. I start following the numbers, heartbeat rising and my legs moving like from their own volition again.

 _1914… 1917… 1918… 1923… 1939… 1940…_ I take greater leaps and move forward a bit faster, skipping some and stopping when there are more decade differences from where I started. I am now moving near the end of the twentieth century and approaching the beginning of the twenty-first. _2000… 2001…. Two thousand and –_

My feet stop moving and at the same time, someone walks next to me. I do not look at them, thinking that they are merely passing by, but then the sound of footsteps stops right next to me.

"Are you interested in these, miss?" It's obviously a male, whoever it is asking. But it isn't the bartender's voice.

I turn my head slightly to glance at the person and see that it's indeed not the man who served me the drinks. He is slightly taller than him and has greyish hair with thin framed and round glasses. A cigarette is hanging from his smirking mouth and I momentarily almost frown again. _Is smoking even allowed in here?_

However, when I look into his eyes again and see that he is looking at me, I return my attention back to the wall with my arms crossed. Once again, a stranger has started talking to me and made me feel uncomfortable.

"…Yes," I finally say and try to focus my entire attention on the framed newspaper instead of the man. _Maybe I should go back to drink?_

"Hmm," he hums and then taps his foot against the floorboards. "Do you have someone specific in mind that you are looking for? I bet that I can find them faster than you."

Glancing once again at him, I see him looking down at me with that same smirk, cigarette and all hanging from between his showing straight teeth line. It's too bad that one at the front is missing and in place of it is a gaping hole.

Now I definitely am uncomfortable and a bit annoyed by the sound of his tone – it is too sure and confident and makes me feel incompetent. I was just about to find what I was about to look for before he came along and interrupted my thoughts. However, it's a good thing that I drank earlier and feel more confident as well. So, I decide to humor this stranger a bit.

 _The one I want to find…_

"Genjitsu."

A low whistle. "Haven't heard that name in a _long_ time," he lets out a sound close to chuckling, but then it stops. He points with his hands up and almost to the ceiling. "You won't find it from looking at the years. Fifth one from the right at the top. This may be a collection of villains, but only a few have been put up there."

"Why is that?" I ask out of pure curiosity and feel for the second time how my heartbeat quickens its drumming pace. My eyes continue trailing up quickly towards where the man is pointing at.

Another row of raspy chuckles. "Isn't it obvious? Only the worst of the worst deserve the top spot."

I do not say anything to that but feel a tug in my heart from his words. Now, it isn't only the alcohol that is causing a sour taste from spreading all over my mouth, from my tongue to the back of my throat. And then… I find the article and my shoulders stiffen. I hold my breath and stare at the newspaper.

"Surely," my mouth moves before my brain can think, eyes still staring at the picture of the old paper, "others have done much worse."

"True. But having been nicknamed as the Guillotine of Japan is not a small feat," the man says and then takes out a lighter. "I almost admire Genjitsu for that."

Those words make me swallow thickly, but my attention at the article still does not waver. I stare, and stare more than I think is natural and can't tear my gaze away anymore. Like any other person in these old and nearly worn-out pictures, the person I am seeing on this piece is no different. The _villain_ is wrapped in chains, their long hair covering almost every part of their face. Only one eye is peeking out as the binds keep the person down on a what looks like a metal chair and a black wrap is tightly covering the mouth that can't be seen. It is as if the picture has been taken from an asylum instead of a criminal.

But it is the look in that one eye that is truly maddening. This picture or the newspaper isn't old and that is why the color is still intact and every dirty spot on a pale face can be seen clearly – even the glee in the one brown orb is clear as a day alongside with a dark bag under it. There is a shine in Genjitsu's gaze, but not that of a mad person, but that of someone who is tired. _She_ looks worn out like the fight has been given up and she couldn't care less about anything else anymore. Also, besides the dark ring, there is also redness around her eye.

A tight lump has appeared in my throat. I swallow thickly, but it doesn't go away. A strange sensation starts appearing in my eyes as well and I clench my hands together – suddenly, this cozy bar feels suffocating. I can't believe what I am seeing or what I am starting to read from the small text that I miraculously can see.

' _At the morning of June, the infamous mass murderer was captured by…'_ I swallow again, eyes trailing lower.

"You alright – "

"I am fine," my voice comes out quite freely and naturally as if what I am experiencing on the inside doesn't exist. A forced smile is plastered on my face when I turn to look at the man. "I think I need to finish my drink. Thanks, by the way."

He doesn't say anything, but merely widens his smirk and gives a curt nod.

Without another word from me too, I turn around and make it back to the bar. My coat, bag, and drink have not moved, and I sit down. Without hesitation, I also empty the glass from the drink it contains. Even though the taste is not exactly what I would usually prefer, the drink is gone in a matter of a second and just like in movies I place the glass down firmly on the wood.

I look up at the bartender and he meets my gaze equally in a way that says he must be suspecting what I am going to ask.

"A third one, please."

"Coming right up."

* * *

Even while being almost completely out of it, I know that I can't keep on trying to find my house the way I am. The alcohol is keeping me warm, but I know that walking around with the jacket wrapped around my waist in damp weather with new grey clouds gathering in the sky is not too wise. There is no umbrella around, I am swaying and stumbling forward, and I think I did a wrong turn a few minutes ago.

I finally stop next to an unknown park, which only confirms how lost I truly am and sit down on the nearest bench. Almost as soon as I do, I realize that the thing is probably still wet from the early morning rain and the strange sensation spreading under me settles the problem of it. But I do not stand up and merely keep on sitting, processing this within my head, eyes wandering around me.

 _That lamppost looks like a giraffe._ Shaking my head in denial, not for what I think is true, I look up at my phone to take notice through swimming vision that it is probably time for dinner already, I think. Honestly, not seeing anything clearly is really frustrating, especially, when I would like to go and eat.

"Damn!" I yell out loud, not at least bit of ashamed how people passing by look at me weirdly. I squint my face. "What 're ya all lookin' at?"

Everyone immediately looks away and continues on their daily business and I huff. _That is right. Runaway._ A small chuckle makes it way out of me without really any good reason and I lift up my phone. However, it falls out of my grasp and falls down to the ground – I momentarily don't even realize that there is nothing laying on my hand anymore. My brain goes through this very slowly and I do the picking up at the same pace.

It is a struggle to open my phone and I growl lowly under my breath, confused as to why it is so. When I finally get to the list of my contacts, I look at them with mouth half-open. _I could call grandpa… oh, wait. He is dead._ But besides that, the only number I could now call now is Rin or the manager at the food store. And once again, even in my craziest of states, the latter is the last one I would think of contacting.

I press a 'call' button and bring the phone close to my ear.

" _HI! Thanks for calling! Do leave a voice message since I am currently getting myself screwed up at the other end of town!"_

I blink, hear the recorder for the voicemail go on and open my mouth. "Hi, Rin. This iz Masako," I take a pause, head lolling to the side. "I am somewhe'e, don' know how. Can ya pleeeaaase come and help out? Bye."

As soon as I close the phone and put it sluggishly into my bag, a new sensation starts rising up my throat. It is burning, and I also suddenly feel very sick. _Oh, no. Not again._ My hand flies up to my mouth and my eyes widen, as I twist and push my head towards the back of the bench and above the bushes behind it. I make it just in time before whatever has been in my stomach comes flying out and splatters down.

When done, I slump back down to the chair, shoulders heaving up and down. The taste of bitterness and acid is terrible, and I start thinking about finding another bar again but find myself also thinking about water. The problem is that I am out of money and can't really afford to buy a thing, right now. _Who even came up with money? It's a stupid word, 'money'. Ugh. And when you need it there isn't any around._

"A total waste of time," I mutter in an upset tone, but then pout and sink deeper into the seat. The sky seems to be getting darker and I mumble while gazing up at it: "What a pretty pattern."

Someone passes by the bench and my eyes fall to follow their movement. A thought enters into my head soon after and I stand up swaying, bag clutched weakly in my grasp. The stranger hadn't been paying attention to me when he passed by which works for me as a more of a nuisance since I have to move to catch him.

"Hey! Ya!" I holler, and the man immediately freezes.

He slowly turns around, looking unsurely between me and the streets around him. "Um, me?"

My nod is heavy and a long one that causes me almost trip forward. "Yeah, ya!"

"A-are you alright?" He asks unsurely, as I start walking towards him dangerously swaying once again. Through my unfocused view, I see his expression change more than once but am unsure what that means or what emotions those expression portray. The man does, however, seem to take a hesitant step forward on my approach. "Do… do you need any help, ma'am?"

 _Ma'am?_ My own face twitches and I glare at him, fully halting to the spot. "Wha? Do I look like an ol' lady to ya?"

"N-no, miss!" He stiffens and immediately shakes his head – the action causes my head to spin, not that it already isn't.

I start walking forward again. "Give me money."

"Eh?"

The man is dumbfounded, but I don't care and reach forward. Both of my hands land on his shoulders and I pull him closer, making sure to have the strongest grip possible on his person. Despite the fact how my eyes keep on moving around unfocused, I feel the muscles beneath my palms stiffen and trying to pull away – I won't let it happen and tighten my hold. I have thrown up more than three times already and I know in my hazy mind that I am much weaker than usual because of the strain the alcohol has put my body through. _Huh? Who is this person again?_

My eyelids feel heavy and I can barely keep my head up anymore. The same can be said about the rest of my body. It feels as if I am about to fall asleep and I let my head sway to the side to rest on whatever solid surface I am leaning against.

"H-hey!"

Something is wrapped around me and I fully close my eyes, planning on taking a short nap.

* * *

Sorahiko – Gran Torino – has seen many foolish young people through the course of his lifetime. From some random brat on the streets to those he needed to discipline and every single one managed in some way or other raise his blood pressure. Even nowadays, there are many things he doesn't understand in those decades younger than himself and he doesn't think that that will ever change.

And despite knowing this and having an experience worth many years, he cannot stop himself from feeling the veins on his neck pop from the scene he has witnessed.

It wasn't his intention to have a run-in with the young woman – more like an immature brat in his opinion – he had argued with days ago. He knew that pressing the issue on her would have nothing, but worse consequences to both him and her. And that is precisely why he had come to check on her only through shadows and by hiding.

However, today is not one of those days where he would go to that ridiculously expensive food store and demand discounts. Today he is merely walking around to get some fresh air and you can call it a ridiculously precise coincidence that makes him decide to walk past a park.

And he is glad he did.

 _What in the world is that girl up to!?_

She is completely out of it, that is the first thing he notices due to her swaying and general appearance. The hair is a mess, and the clothes are wrinkled and too light for this kind of rainy day. Not to mention he can clearly tell that she has taken too much of something and can't navigate or coordinate properly on her own.

Gran Torino's eyebrow twitches violently and he snaps the moment she grabs the strange man by the shoulders, demands money and collapses on top of him. The greyish eyebrow is twitching now even more due to this scene.

His instinct tells him to interfere.

"Hey! You two!" He yells out, clearly startling the man who is desperately trying to balance himself and the woman in his arms. "What is going on here, son!?"

The young woman looks clearly lost and his eyes dart between the old man and Masako who is clearly not waking up anymore. She is slumped all over him and he has his arms still around her – at least he isn't planning on letting her fall, Sorahiko thinks.

"U-um," the man stumbles with his words, "I think she is drunk, s-sir."

"That is an understatement," Sorahiko spits out and walks briskly closer, eyeing Masako with a critical eye. However, he stops advancing, when a rather strong stench of alcohol reaches his nose. He has to stop breathing for a second and recoils, too. _Goodness! How much did this brat drink!?_

"Mr. Hero, should we take her to a hospital?" The stranger asks and shifts the woman in his grip so that her entire face is now visible.

Masako's face is a picture-perfect look of someone who is sleeping. Her eyelids are closed, her entire face is relaxed alongside with her entire body and there is even a trail drool coming from the corner of her half-open mouth. There is no indication whatsoever that she is in pain or has any physical signs of harm on herself. A relief, but as far as her intoxicated state comes, there is no telling, if she is truly hurt. Nor can she actually in her current situation tell how she has ended up here or if something had happened before this.

Gran Torino exhales. Maybe he is overthinking – he definitely is – since this is a granddaughter of someone he knew back in the day. The last person he wants to see like this is her and the retired hero has few ideas how her grandfather would react if he was here seeing this. She may be drunk, but the worst thing that could happen from it is a nasty headache once she wakes up. _Your flesh and blood sure is a troublesome one._ He hadn't thought that he would be seeing her like this. Rather, the fact that she has drunk this heavily is somewhat of a shock to him – her grandfather had been a non-drinker since his very early teenage years. Although, he had smelled the alcohol from her last time, as well. So, he guesses that there was foreshadowing for something like this to happen.

"Did you see, if she was with someone?" He finally asks, thinking of actually calling an ambulance.

"No, sir. She was merely talking to herself on that bench when I passed by," the man answers immediately, seeming to gain control of his thoughts in this peculiar situation.

Sorahiko continues staring at the unconscious woman for another minute or two, not pretty much paying any attention to the male who is still supporting her entire weigh with his twig arms. Taking her to a hospital would really be a good idea just in case something is truly wrong with her. However, he knows that this looks like she simply drank too much and passed out – taking her anywhere near professionals would be a waste of time and effort. Also, Gran Torino should make up his mind, soon. The younger man looks ready to have another panic attack.

When he comes into his final decision, the retired hero lets out a sigh and reaches out for the bag hanging from her hand. The action causes the man holding Masako to blink in confusion and then nervousness.

"U-um, why are – "  
"Calm down. I know this woman, but I will have to look into her bag for an address."

"Oh... Alright."

He starts going through the content in order and says without looking up. "Call a taxi for us. It will be impossible to drag her all the way, if she lives far away."

"I-I don't really have my phone with me, today," the man answers meekly.

It's as if something snaps within the old hero for the second time today. His shoulders grow rigid and he tries to smother an urge to smack Masako who remains oblivious to his thoughts and sharp glare – he also doesn't have a phone with him.

* * *

The whiskey swirls in the glass, as the man holds it with a thoughtful look on his face. The ice in the liquid hasn't started melting yet, but it should be soon gone if he doesn't start taking it. However, it is clear that there is a more pressing matter in his mind, despite how he keeps on smirking eyebrows squinted together.

The bartender has taken note of this and hasn't interfered with those thoughts – a wise choice. Instead, the owner has decided to polish the glasses in case someone else also wants to waltz in at this hour. Besides this man currently sitting in front of his bar with a drink and himself, there are many others sitting and walking around the place and he can start a conversation with one of them when an opportunity arises.

Suddenly, the whiskey glass is placed down. "Was that miss a regular?"

The hand holding a clean and fresh rag pauses with polishing. "Pardon, sir?"

The man blinks once, looking at the bartender's face without showing any other emotion. The other end does the same with their back straight as an arrow and one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. Neither of them says a thing and the only thing breaking the silence is the uncontrollable chatter of the other customers in the bar. There is an unknown tension between the men two, though, that those sounds can't dissolve.

The light hits the round pair of glasses in an angle that the eyes behind them are covered. The smirk is still present like a mask, and the expression is almost distracting from the fact that you couldn't tell what the purple suited man is thinking. Still, the man owning the entire establishment doesn't waver, because his own gaze is no better. It is almost blank, holding every possible information under control and locked away. Whatever they are telling each other through a silent conversation can only be told by them and nobody else.

Finally, the customer's smirk widens, and he lowers his head so that the light isn't hitting the lenses and his eyes are visible again. In a familiar manner, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the money.

The bartender's eyes flicker and he glances around once, before taking the payment. "The one you were talking with during the opening hours is a new face – haven't seen her around before."

"Anything you noticed?"

A raised brow. He knows this customer somewhat and how perceptive he can be, so for him to ask an opinion from another person is a new one. But it also tells him that he is more than curious towards any extra information he can get his hands upon.

"She claimed to have started drinking only recently but ordered more than five shots and didn't look too good when she left. That is pretty common with troubled minds, but she could also be a reckless personality. From my real judgment, the latter is doubtful, because she wasn't much of a talker and was clearly uncomfortable when I tried starting a conversation. Not to mention she didn't look too good from merely her pale complexion and slight redness around the eyes. So, she could have drunk as much as she had to forget something or was having merely a really rough morning…"

"Anything else?" The man wearing glasses asks curiously. He also noticed these small details about her immediately, as soon as their small and intriguing conversation had started. However, he knows that there could be more than the bartender had caught and isn't revealing so easily.

However, when the information giver falls silent and merely stares at him, he lets out a sigh mixed with dry humor. Of course, there would be no further info without further payment – he takes out another amount of money and hands it over.

"I noticed something within her bag when she accidentally left it open on the table," he starts again, folding the money and placing within his own pocket. "There was a paper with the name of the nearby police station on it."

The grey-haired man looks down at his drink again, eyes once again clouded with thoughts that are his own. "That is all I need to know, then. Thanks."

The bartender nods his head. "I am happy to be of service, sir."

Despite saying it nonchalantly, he would like to ask for what the information he has given will be used for but remains silent and starts serving the others in need of a good drink. He has learned a long time ago not to be too curious, when it comes to this kind of business.

The man clad in a purple suit merely nods back and then turns around in his chair, eyes looking over the other customers' heads and towards the walls holding the old newspapers in identical wooden frames. He had been rather surprised, when someone had tried finding that particular one hidden almost under the shadows of the roof and other decoration. Not many honestly pay that much attention to these old articles anymore. Nobody is interested in those who have been taken down what seems to them like eons ago. Only heroes are kept in the present, but that is what makes this entire bar so peculiar to that way of thinking. The young woman's interest on them hadn't been the only thing that had caught his attention, however.

 _Of all the errands I have been asked to do…_

He takes out a lighter and a flame flickers and lets his thoughts trail off the longer he stares at all of the old pictures.

* * *

It is expected, but not welcomed. When I come back from the deep sleep, a horrible headache hits me like a wave and keeps me pinned down to the mattress. _W-wait what?_ Despite the pain and the uncomfortable stiffness of my body, I crack my eyes open and suffer through the brightness of the room. I look down to see a blanket draped over me and then trail my tired gaze all over the place – this is my room, in my apartment.

The last clear image within my head is of the bar I was drinking in. Then, everything becomes blurry and I can't recall clearly what happened after. Cold sweat trails down my back and for a moment I am frozen in confusion of how I ended up back in here.

I can't think for a minute, my memories are scattered without an order, but one movement from my tongue and the familiar taste of alcohol brings some of them back to me. Remembering makes me relax a bit and my body decreases its tension, already ready to go back to sleep.

"You awake yet?"

"Kyah!" I stiffen up once again and move quickly to the end of the bed, despite the dizziness and the headache. My heart nearly leaps up and out of my throat, when I see the one who is standing in the middle of my apartment. "W-what are you doing here – ow."

"Careful. The hangover must be nasty," Sorahiko says easily. Although, his voice does nothing to lessen the turmoil inside my skull. And it becomes worse when his tone changes into an irritation. "And is that the 'thank you' I get?"

Biting down on my lower lip to fight against the drumming within my ears, I look at him confusedly and almost hiss from the brightness flowing into the room through an open window. "For… for what?"

The old man looks ticked off by my question for a second. "For making sure that you weren't about to be taken an advantage of, looking for your address instead taking you to a hospital, paying for the taxi that took us to your apartment while you were still barely awake, finding the keys to your apartment so you wouldn't have to – "

"Alright, alright. I get it," I interrupt him, raising my hand weakly up and rubbing my forehead with the other. The list baffles more than clears things up, though.

"What were you even thinking? Walking around all alone and barely sensible enough to make your own decisions. Not to mention how you tried to rob that one man of his money – "

"What?" I frown and look back at him in confusion.

He sputters after seeing my reaction. "You mean to tell me that after all of that trouble you don't even remember?"

 _Remember what? Rob a man?_ This is my first time experiencing a memory loss due to alcohol and I do not know what to make of it. Having blank spots in my memories feels a bit frustrating, but I can't remember anything no matter how hard I try. I feel sick, but not in a way that I will throw up. Rather, it's both the tiredness and the way my head hurts that weighs me down.

I start getting another headache the more I try making sense of all of this and then decide to lay down when the dizziness gets worse. Besides feeling physically nauseous, I also experience relief knowing that the old man was present when I was drunk. Now, that I really think about it – in pain and sick – I realize how much of an idiot I had truly been when I went and recklessly ordered all of those drinks.

"Thanks," I finally say with a sigh. "How much do I owe you?"

Sorahiko scoffs. "Forget it. I will get money this week anyway."

I shake my head weakly and sit up a bit to look at him straight in the eye. "No. I caused you trouble and I will pay back. How much?"

"I said forget it. Rather, you should focus on getting better soon as possible. I am not going to be around if you start walking around the place as you are now. Also, think before you drink yourself into oblivion without anyone to watch over you," he finishes rather sharply and I almost wince from his tone. "I am going, now. Try to be more careful, _brat_."

I am expecting him to say something else, as well, but he doesn't. Gran Torino seems to have gotten everything he wanted out of his chest and turns his back to me. And even when he has disappeared behind a corner, I am expecting him to turn up again and say something else again, despite the fact that I would also like to have the time to rest now. The clock next to my bed points out that it is still daytime and I have nothing else to do today.

It is only when do I hear the familiar sound of the lock of the front door clicking and opening and then closing again that I realize the old hero is gone. The emotion I experience from that is strange like I do not believe it to be true and recall our short talk over and over again in my head. The covers around me are soft and I snuggle closer, resting my head tiredly on the pillow and almost hiding into it.

Once again, my apartment has fallen into a silence I am all too familiar with.

I am now alone, again, and I should fall asleep or at least try to, but my mind keeps on wandering off. _He helped me_ – not in a way I would have ever expected. For a moment, I had feared that he would want to talk with me about our previous argument or start something worse, but instead, he had merely ranted and scolded me. Not that it is a better option since I felt uncomfortable during the whole time despite being in a hangover. He doesn't want anything in return – I will repay him nonetheless – he merely helped because he wanted to.

" _It was your grandfather's last wish that I would watch over you if something were to happen!"_

I bite down on my lower lip. _No, he did it because of grandpa._ That fact makes my chest tighten again from replaying the scene in the park days ago. The bitterness and anger I had felt, the satisfaction I got from showing him what I really thought are all coming back, and I am so glad that I hadn't drunk too much to forget it all. I do not want to forget a thing, especially after I managed to get under his skin. Yet, maybe it is because he has helped me today like this, that I am already starting to feel ashamed of feeling this way. I bite down on my lower lip, again, feeling my stomach twisting in discomfort. My fingers clench the edge of the blanket over me tightly. _He is grandpa's friend, but… no different from any other hero._

Leisurely and with struggle, I sit up again, despite how much my spinning head is telling me to lay down. And that is when I notice a small bundle of letters laying on a small desk next to my bed. Thinking that Sorahiko must have been the one to put them there, I reach for the one on top of the pile.

I expect to see that it is another bill and look at it with clenched gut but find myself surprised when there is an unfamiliar name marked as a sender.

A confused frown cracks my face in puzzlement. _Tsukauchi Naomasa?_


	5. Chapter 5: Water is murky

**Tinywhim: Yeah, Naomasa is a pretty cool guy, I agree on that one. A small spoiler for you, you'll see him in this chapter, so enjoy. And thank you for liking this story.**

* * *

 _Here are the answers for the path you've chosen so far_

 _Hey, it's natural that you should proceed with confidence_

 _Just like a rainbow over rainy asphalt_

 _-For you (Azu)_

* * *

Chapter 5: Water is murky

* * *

" _You're still here?" An old man asks in his place on the bed. His eyes are heavily closed, head lulled against the soft pillows, but his voice sounds that of someone wide awake._

 _The young woman in her seat next to him raises an eyebrow, barely lifting her own head from the resting position on her palm. "Wow. Rude."_

 _A cackle, dry laugh which results in coughing shakes his body, but it soon resumes to soft chuckles. "Didn't just expect you to stay here this long. Wouldn't someone of your age rather hit bars or shops with your friends?"_

" _Too lazy," is her immediate answer. "And bars? Since when I have ever been to one?"_

" _Who knows what you're doing, when I am locked up in here – don't worry, though. I don't hold it against you," he says with a playful edge and the two resume into previous silence._

 _The woman flickers her wrist, playing with the hair tie around it absentmindedly. It's once again too stuffy in this room and the open windows barely do a thing to make a difference. She can smell the usual stench of the hospital and how it emits bitterness. Although, what softens it is the slight hint of her grandpa's coffee on the table next to the bed. She had gone her way and purchased few pastries for them, as well – more than half are already gone from the plate._

 _A loud wind blows in, ruffling both hers and the old man's hair. It's helpful and relaxes the former's shoulders. The woman actually leans back and closes her eyes, much like the only other person in the entire room is doing. They both enjoy the quietness of the entire day and not even the other patients out in the yard are making a racket like usually. Otherwise, the window would have been closed tight until the needed oxygen would have run out. There is an air conditioner, of course, but the young woman thinks it does next to nothing to improve the conditions._

 _She has been counting time. There's always that one or few hours when someone enters the room and shatters whatever illusion it's keeping this peaceful and carefree atmosphere. The old man needs his medication, but his granddaughter wishes that the nurses would stop looking at her and telling her that every time they do enter this room with a simple knock on the door. It's always that same look, the plastic smile, and freakishly healthy-looking teeth._

" _Why are you frowning like that?" The old man chuckles, breaking the silence._

 _Only realizing now that a frown has indeed formed on her face, the young woman smooths her features and opens her eyes. "The nurses in this hospital are too good-looking."_

 _He barks a soft laugh, this time. "What made you say something like that? You're a sight yourself."_

" _Why thank you," she answers with a fake dramatic toss of her hair. However, when she looks back at him to see two pairs of eyes staring back with gentleness and care, her expression falters. He looks so content in this bed, but so tired as well that her eyes dart between his gaze and the sheets awkwardly. Suddenly, there is a lump in her throat, and it won't go away by swallowing. "So… about what we talked, you know, yesterday…"_

 _He blinks, slowly, but soon recognition appears on his face. His mouth forms a round 'o' and he too looks down at the sheets. "Oh."_

 _There is again silence, but this time it's more than uncomfortable. While the old man appears thoughtful, the young woman is back to playing with her hands. This is new, she thinks and bites down on her lower lip. They haven't been like this in a while, but the silence is shattered for the second time by the older man._

" _What do you want to do?"_

 _The woman lifts her head. "Eh?"_

 _He smiles gently. "You aren't a child, despite the times, when I treat you like one. This should be your choice and your choice alone. So, I want to know what_ _ **you**_ _want to do."_

 _Her throat tightens like there is a time limit to answer. Honestly, she hasn't wanted to think of this for a while now. Rather, she has blocked the questions and results from her head completely. This week should have been like any other, but now this topic had to come up and she had to bring it up today._

" _I…I'm," she starts, voice clearly not sounding confident or indifferent like she hopes for, "I'm not sure."_

" _It's alright," the man reassures, reaching out with his thin hand. Afraid that this might for some strange reason overtired him, the woman reaches out as well and meets his hand with hers. His bony fingers wrap around hers. "Take your time. I'll support your decision, but it's just… that I don't want you to end up alone."_

 _She shakes her head, biting harder down on her lower lip. "Don't say that."_

 _The only answer he gives is another squeeze to her hand. "I'm sorry things have come to this."_

 _Another shake. "It's nothing. You'll be fine, grandpa."_

 _He lets out a sigh and shakes his head tiredly, still not letting go of the hand. "I'm not so sure anymore. This is my body and I if anyone know it the best. Not even those doctors can predict with certainty what will happen in the future."_

"… _Well," she starts, but for a moment the words die on her tongue, "the future is in the future. Let's focus on it later."_

 _Slowly, he turns his head and fully faces her, grip loosening on hers, but keeping still. The dark eyes stare at the younger person with years of experience and wariness. He's tired, this is yet again another proof of it. Tired of this constant medication, this constant care, and his grandchild's constant worry and lingering visits in this place that he knows she dislikes. They both understand what's going through other's head without saying a word and that's precisely what terrifies her the most._

 _She doesn't want him to see her like this – ready to be broken into pieces._

" _I truly wish to hear your decision, before I go, Masako-chan."_

* * *

The meeting place is nice enough. It is a modest café in the heart of the city with plenty of people – plenty of witnesses in case something goes wrong. And the reserved seat is next to a wide window that has a full view of the busy streets and right next to the cashier. The day is also very bright and almost no cloud is hanging over the sky… if you don't include the gloomy one hanging over my head, that is.

I am nervous, beyond nervous I could say. I had taken a long shower this morning to wash off every bit of sweat from the night of restless sleep, but I feel like that was done in vain since my hands are already so sweaty that I am rubbing them against my jeans. The entire body language I am using simply screams restless or anxious and I wouldn't be surprised if the waiter who has brought me a glass of water has already taken a note of it. I may look like a properly dressed-up woman with a poker face, but on the inside, I am already screaming.

This supposed meeting I am about to have should have started ten minutes ago – I know since there is a giant clock hanging from the wall opposite of me. Yet, there is still nobody who has approached me. _Keep calm. I am sure that they are coming, just running a bit late. There was a reservation done with my name in it… everything is fine… I hope?_

Not knowing what else to do anymore, I reach out and touch the icy cold glass. The waiter had been kind enough to ask if I wanted any ice in it. And the moment I take a sip, there is a slight relief on my heating up nerves.

Honestly, if someone takes on all the trouble inviting a person to a place like this in a short notice, the least they could do is to show up on time.

"Maki-san?" An unfamiliar voice calls out and my spine stiffens up. "I am terribly sorry for being late, despite inviting you here."

Almost stiffly, I turn my head, trying to appear unaffected. However, the appearance of the man who has appeared next to me is totally not what I expect to see.

Since getting that letter two days ago with the strange name signed as the sender, many images of that person have been forming within my head. But I guess now that I am here, I can conclude that those were the result of needless worry and anxiety rather than anything else. The first image of the man who had invited me into this place was that of a one with a quirk making his entire body appear red and devil-like, but the real deal couldn't be further away from that.

Sure, he's tall but other than that the facial features are completely harmless. He is like any other average man on the street that you could meet and forget. Short black hair and the same colored eyes. The attire he wears is that of a businessman with a simple white long-sleeved shirt and a black tie with matching dark pants and shoes. On his side, he holds a brown suitcase and a brownish jacket.

The first impression that he has made on me is not that significant. I could easily pass him as nobody dangerous or harmful, but I can feel how my shoulders start tensing up. _At least he has apologized._

"Tsukauchi-san," I say and give a simple bow, not getting up from my seat.

He in return also bows with a slight smile. "It's nice to officially meet you."

"…Likewise," I lie and look back down at the glass in my hands. The man does not hesitate to take a seat in front of me and once he has and placed his stuff to the side I straighten up. "So, what's it exactly you want to talk with me about?"

He looks, for a moment, taken aback by my tight tone, but still manages to smile a bit. "Ah, right. Would you perhaps like something to eat before we start?"

"No, thank you," I say, not even feeling anything but dread pooling in my gut. "I would like to finish this as quickly as possible if we could."

"Yes, of course," he says, luckily not taking any offense and trying to push the matter further. "Honestly, I was a bit surprised to meet you earlier last week. I didn't even recognize you, at the time."

I am about to take another sip from my drink but pause and frown. "Excuse me? Have we met before?"

For the second time, Naomasa looks taken aback and opens and closes his mouth a few times, before collecting himself. "Do you not remember? You were almost hit by a car."

Once again, I frown but decide to give him a second look. Like I thought, he appears normal, someone unnoticeable in a crowd and I start thinking that I might have seen him at one point, but very _very_ briefly. But then our eyes meet and for a moment I freeze. _Hit by a car…_ The frown stays on my face, but slowly through my discomfort and confusion, I remember the day I was at the Police station in the city.

"Ah!" escapes from my mouth and I cover it more in shock than embarrassment. "You saved me!"

He chuckles, expression brightening. "I am glad you seem to be doing better now."

Guilt stabs momentarily my chest, but it's smothered by suspicion. "Did… did you know of me, before you pulled me out of the way?"

"What? No – oh! You dropped this," he reaches out into his suitcase and pulls out a piece of paper. "I picked it up and that's how I was able to find who you're."

Without hesitation, I reach out and pale almost instantly from seeing one of the documents I had filled once upon a time. It has my full name, date of birth and even my current address. The sides are a bit smudged, probably from the time the paper fell onto the concrete dirt road for anyone to pick it up. To think that I had dropped so significant and important just because of how beaten up I had felt from the request rejection at the time. Now, I truly feel like an idiot and horrified by what I have left to transpire.

When I got Naomasa's letter, I had assumed that he got my address and other personal information through questionable means. Who wouldn't think that way after receiving a note from someone who they have never met before? But it seems it had all been due to my scatterbrain self that he contacted me so easily.

As I process this information, the same waiter who had brought the water comes back and places the wine I asked for earlier in front of me before starting to take orders from the male sitting on the other side of the table. Quickly, but as smoothly as possible, I fold the paper and place it within my bag, closing the zipper firmly. _So, this meeting is actually my own undoing, huh._

"Thank you," I say, once the waiter is gone again. "For, you know, saving me and bringing the document."

"It was no problem. I am glad you ended up being unharmed," he says sincerely and leans back on his seat in a comfortable manner. "And I am terribly sorry for how one of our staff members handled your situation. That was entirely uncalled for."

This time, I easily recall a face from the time I met Naomasa in the middle of the street. That office lady who had threatened me is still burned within the memory in my head and I momentarily grit my teeth. However, I end up sighing deeply.

"It's fine. Frankly, her behavior was expected, and she wasn't the first or the last one to react that way," I tell honestly and quite frankly, flashbacks bringing back unpleasant memories.

"You have tried seeking permission from other stations, as well, correct?" Naomasa asks, but it sounds to me that he's merely stating the truth. When I stare at him for a while, he must read my mind because his face turns a bit serious. "As I wrote to you, I am working in the city's Police Force and was able to find the information through our computer system."

 _In short, you investigated me more than the paper could tell,_ is what I would like to accuse, but instead say: "I see."

"My intention wasn't to invade your privacy, but I would have liked to get a clearer picture of your circumstances," when he finishes, Naomasa's expression softens. "I am sorry for your loss."

There it's again. Those words that make my gut tighten, my jaw clench and my throat feel like it's being blocked. He appears remorseful, saddened even, but that's precisely what I don't like seeing. It would have been better if he had found out about me in a more sensible or normal way and not like this. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt like this.

However, the most striking thing that hits me is that he somehow found out about grandpa's death. I do not think he would have found that if he hadn't looked deeper from the surface.

"Thank you," I say mechanically and decide to take a sip from the wine, calming my nerves. "But seriously, why did you want to meet me?"

"Well," he clears his throat and straightens up, hands placed on the table, "I would firstly like to know if anyone else knows of your situation and of your current location."

 _Location? Why does he make it sound so…?_

"Why does it matter? I have a social life here and there, so of course, some know where I am," I say defensively, completely dismissing the fact that this is the very man who saved me from being mangled by a vehicle. "Unless you…" the words dry on my tongue for a second, "you know more of me to ask such a…"

I am struggling to form a correct sentence. Truthfully, I have been dreading what I would hear here today. Of what this stranger could possibly know, and the thought keeps on making my hands slippery. I don't want to appear nervous or shaken, but I end up taking another sip from my drink, tasting the alcohol and gathering my thoughts.

"You mentioned in your letter of being a family friend," I start again and reach out for my bag, rummaging through it with a calmness that there definitely isn't inside my chest.

"That's right," he admits it without any hesitation or a pause.

I inhale and place a piece of paper filled with what is his handwriting down to the table. "Then, whose friend, are you? My grandpa's, perhaps?"

He shakes his head, creating even more tension in the atmosphere. "I am afraid not. I am an old friend of your – "

"Stop, right there," I say firmly, already feeling cramped in this large space. Naomasa does stop talking, but he seems surprised for the third time. I can understand why, though. I must sound so miffed or at least uncomfortable. "L-look, I get it. You know my family, but my life and its ways and goings are my business and my business only. So, why do you – no. What right do you have to come and ask these questions from me?"

"Maki-san, I apologize for causing you distress," he speaks soon after I finish, but doesn't look at least bit affected by my words. In fact, his voice continues speaking calmly, steadily, but also with a whisper, like he doesn't want anyone else to hear this conversation. "You are absolutely right – I have no right to question your life or interrogate you on your own business, as you put it. However, I do have worries on the way you have handled things so far, so please listen to what I have to say for the sake of your safety."

He may not see it, but my hand underneath the table clenches tightly into a fist. _I don't like where this is going._ He makes it sound like someone is after me or something. And that scares me to nod a bit, before taking a drink. It's granting permission for Naomasa to continue.

"So far nobody else in the Police Force or anywhere associated with the police has brought up the events of your visits to different offices. Still, if someone does, the issue of it will be brought up."

"What issue?" I ask, feeling once again how irritation keeps on bubbling. My drink is nearly finished, and I worry that it might soon be completely empty. "I see no issue with what I have asked so far."

"On a personal and emotional standard, no. I absolutely agree with you," he says softly and nods, but then both of his dark eyebrows knit together. "But it's only because I am more aware of the situation of your family that I can sympathize. The same can't be said about any outsider or the rest of the station workers you have addressed on the case. You must understand that – people will start asking more questions and that will put you at risk."

"…I don't think it would be professional on your office's part to spread personal information like that, much less gossip of such things," I finally breathe out, but I know it sounds like a pathetic way to shield myself from the oncoming truth.

When I did what I did – walk around cities to every possible police office I could find – it's true that nothing much was passing through my head. Those were rushed decisions and I hadn't wanted to stop. Even now, I want to find a new and nearest office and go there with demands, but what Naomasa has just told me makes my desires for that diminish slowly.

He must be reading the mood well enough because he also has a rather grim expression on his face. "Yes, it would be truly unwise for them to spread the word of their work like that, but that doesn't stop a few leaks from getting out."

"Tsukauchi-san, please," I sigh out loud, deeply and shoulders slumping, "I do not want this to cause any trouble… I just…"

By 'trouble' I do not mean inconvenience to him or different authority figures, but rather how this could affect my own life. The mere thought of it makes my skin crawl and I clutch the alcohol glass gently, although, I want to squeeze it to the point the glass shatters. Just why does my life to have to go forward with so many obstacles in my way all of sudden? Can't people let things go and mind their own business for once? This is something I have chosen to do, something that no stranger has any business to gossip about or but in.

Out of nowhere, I am truly regretting of the moment I accepted this invitation. I could have just stayed in my house, ripped and burned the letter and things could have gone on normally for me. I could have given Naomasa a cold and ignoring shoulder and let him come here today and discover that I refused to meet him. But no, curiosity had to push away the gut feeling I had and drag me all the way here. And for some strange reason, I had hoped that I could get some good news from this.

How stupid on my part once again.

I raise my head and look at him in the eye. Naomasa must see the change because he straightens up and I must have been on a high alert all this time because I can tell that this is the second time he has done so. He's patient with me, but I am afraid that soon I will not be able to return the same courtesy. It will all depend on his answer and reaction, though. _Could… could he help me?_

"I just want to see my…"

"Here you go, sir."

All of sudden, a drink is placed down on the table and in front of the officer sitting on the opposite side. The dark-haired man looks surprised, but smiles politely to the waiter, thanking him. However, while he's being like that, whatever courage has been building up inside of me vanishes without a trace. It's like because of the waiter's presence, whatever I am about to say gets stuck in my throat.

Lowering my gaze, I take a final sip of my drink, savoring the taste. I do not ask for more and stay silent until the waiter has left. The last thing I need now is to become melodramatic because I can't control my drinking and spill out everything to this stranger.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying again, Maki-san?" Naomasa asks and takes a sip from his own drink.

I bite down on my tongue once, promising myself to stay silent on whatever I wanted to say. "Do I have to stop coming to the police stations, from now on?"

A moment of silence. "I would advise doing so, yes."

"Then… what about my request? Can there be anything that could help me with that?" I ask, still not looking up.

"From my perspective, the process could take months and even years to finally get through. No matter what blood-relations you may have, permission to see someone with such a record is not acceptable or seen as safe," he explains calmly, but then softens his tone. "Maki-san, people tend to change in such isolated conditions. The person you thought you knew may not be the same anymore and there are risks. You have to take those into consideration."

He sounds once again so sincere and emphasizing, but it's the words he uses that make something within me snap. For a moment, I thought the alcohol was already numbing my nerves and softening the sharp edges I could feel inside them, but it seems that I should have seen this coming.

"Tsukauchi-san," I start and, finally, look him back in the eyes. However, unlike before, my face has morphed into a blank mask and I speak with such chilling calmness that goosebumps rise up on my arms. "Since you claim to know _everything_ necessary on me, then let me ask you something. True, there are _risks_ ; anything could happen, and it would all be on me and those who let it happen. Many things could truly go wrong beforehand and there would be nothing that I or anyone could do to stop it. Don't you think that I have already realized that?"

"Of course not. I believe you have done your research," he answers immediately, which is a bit disappointing on my part.

However, I am not finished.

"Good. Then," I lean back and keep my eyes steadily on his, "did anyone ever think, for a second, what the _risks_ might be…What exactly _might_ happen to a little girl who is robbed of her mother one day and never sees her again?"

The world blurs. Not in a way where I have tears in my eyes or something else within them, though. In fact, I see Naomasa quite clearly, but everything else seems to fade and disappear: the sounds, the smells and even the taste of alcohol on my tongue. They all are gone, and I am solely focused on the expression he's wearing at the moment. And the sight is not disappointing.

The man is surprised, shocked even, as he looks at me. He obviously hadn't expected that kind of question. Or maybe he did, but still can't comprehend that I even asked. At least I had bothered to do so in whisper so that nobody else could have heard it. And now, Naomasa is speechless, his mouth half-open, as if planning to answer, but no sound comes out.

However, instead of experiencing some kind of sick enjoyment from this, I feel disappointment. _He's like the rest of them._

"It's so easy," I reach out into my purse and wave at the waiter who starts coming over immediately, "for people like you to make rules and disregard everything else. Here is my share of the bill."

"Maki-san, please wait," Naomasa is half-standing on his seat. "I think you have misunderstood something here. "

I give him a final glare. "Honestly, we are done talking now. But let me tell you something else," I say and start standing up myself. "I don't care who will find out about me, let them talk or whatever. And I certainly will not stop trying to get my will through. So, I would _appreciate_ , if you drop the matter and won't contact me anymore. Have a good day, nonetheless."

He appears hesitant to let me go all of sudden, but I do not wait for a reply and turn around to walk away. Hopefully, he has the sense not to cause a scene in the middle of this place, but I feel like I am the one standing out all of sudden. It's like everyone can see my distress and how much my face is flushed from anger. This is half of what I imagined on how this day would go, but it's still different to experience it firsthand. I have no idea if I was being too rushed or blind to say things like that and leave soon after. Compared to me, Naomasa had been so collected and calm, no matter what he heard me say. Still, all the resolve I had to solve this entire thing properly flew out of the window at some point.

 _What was I even thinking?_ The moment I step out, the heat of the summer hits my face. The air is no better than on the inside – it's stuffy. The people are walking to all directions, blocking almost everything else from my view. It's a perfect picture of my mind, though. There is no order or any clear thought.

I enter the flow and start walking, clutching my bag and recalling the conversation I had just had. None of it feels real anymore and it's like Naomasa was nothing, but a fragment of imagination. But no matter how I see it, there had been nothing that could have come out of our meeting. At least now I know for certain of different risks there might be if I continue.

It's truly different to think what people might say but's on a whole new level to hear someone slam facts on your face in person. For a moment there, my resolve had almost crumbled and that's what scared me the most.

* * *

"Ma-sa-ko-chan!" The loud call for my name is the only warning, before a body slams into mine from behind.

I gasp, reaching out in total panic to take a hold of something and to keep my balance. The weight is almost crushing and a handful of air escapes from my lungs. This is the last thing anyone would expect if standing idly by their locker and just finishing changing their clothes.

When I and the woman still latched onto my back, stop swaying, I let out a loud sigh and look at her. "Seriously, Rin-chan?"

"Mou! No need to look at me like that," she pouts dramatically, like in a cartoon, and untangles herself from me. "Anyway, I got a bonus from the manager!"

"Good for you," I reply sarcastically, recalling my meager payment from this month. For some reason, I have got this strange feeling that he only likes to give bonuses to those who compliment his mane-like fur, considering that's the only thing his quirk can give him.

I and Rin are the only ones in the locker room since few others still have their own shifts to finish. So, it was relatively quiet, until my friend decided to shatter it. Although, I have noticed she does this only at certain times. _This can only mean one thing…_

"So," she drawls out and links her hands behind her back, eyes blinking up at me innocently, "you still coming this weekend?"

"Yeah," I answer without hesitation and force a small smile. "Let's meet in front of the store and order a taxi from there. The others can't come?"

She shakes her head and grabs her phone. "No. They're either at their parents' places for the holidays or just plainly too lazy to come. That's why you are my safest bet."

"Wow, I feel so loved here."

"No, seriously. Those two would only hog all the guys at the club," Rin says, scrunching her face in dramatic distaste. She truly likes partying, but clearly dislikes the idea of being left out because others are too hyper while drunk for her to keep out. Turns out, she becomes quite the wallflower, when drinking. "You are so much meeker with a drink."

A snort nearly escapes from my mouth and I have to smother it. Rin certainly has not seen me full-blown drunk before, if she thinks like that. I already know what might happen and none of those images seem tempting. I did almost rob a poor stranger out of their money the other day, so I can just pray that nothing similar happens this week. The habit does remind me of my grandpa, though. He wasn't really a drinker, but I do recall one and only time when he was downright drunk. He was so grumpy and even threw the remote for the tv out of the window and I had to go and fetch it for him. _It was scary._

Also, I am glad that we aren't going to the same club from last time. It would only bring back the fresh memory of that one man touching me however he pleased. I have never had that kind of experience beforehand, so I hope to be more prepared this time. And also pray that my friend won't bee too wasted to not be able to help me out of a pinch.

Who knows, maybe I could have real fun this time around.

"Oh, and don't worry!" Rin suddenly pipes up and closes her own locker. "This bar is in a much busier part of the city, so we should be relatively fine."

I blink _very_ slowly, giving my most unimpressed look. "Relatively, huh… Well, at least we'll not be going to a club, again."

"Aw, c'mon! It wasn't so bad!"

"I was almost assaulted," I state and pick up my bag. "Also, we were stopped near a murder scene by the police. Yay! What fun it was."

Rin shrugs. "At least it was a memorable night."

"Memorable… right," I nod along with her reasoning as the two of us exit the room and head towards the backdoor. It wasn't just my imagination from earlier that made me think the entire store is silent. This night must be very quiet, indeed.

 _Quiet._

Biting down on my tongue, I start thinking of my apartment out of nowhere. It has already been months, but it truly feels strange to walk into a place empty of any other human life. Usually, I would work in grandpa's shop by this time, arranging all of the wooden works and statues he keeps on carving and wait for the tourists to just come in and take them out of a whim. Then, when it would be time to close the place, we would do it together and go back home the same way. But… my current life couldn't be any different from that.

Instead of either working in a cozy shop or helping in the gardens, I am stuck doing part-time in a food store and going between police stations in heaps of desperation. The latter is becoming increasingly humiliating and irritating, to be frank. I have probably cleared every single office in the whole city and its neighbors… and the entire process has made me think more and more of Naomasa and his words.I have tried dealing with the employers in a much calmer manner, but… _I am gathering too much attention, huh._

Still, I was dead serious, when I told him not to contact me anymore, which he has done quite successfully. The last thing I need is a reminder of the embarrassment I felt after that whole mess. I really could have handled the entire situation more maturely. And in the end, I hissed down at a man clearly older than me. Who knows what he might think now? It doesn't matter much to me in a personal way, but rather what he could do now that he has confirmed what he already clearly knows.

 _A family friend…_ It's just a terrifying hunch on my part, but I can tell already whose friend exactly he is.

"By the way, could you come with me to Hestival on Sunday?"

I nearly stop on my tracks and raise my eyebrow. "A what now?"

Rin grins. "It's a Hero Festival – Hestival!"

"Is that a real term for it, or something you just came up with?" I ask with a laugh, trying to ignore how my insides squirm. "Anyway, no. I am pretty sure that I'll be hangover after Saturday with you in a bar."

Unlike me just a second ago, my friend stops and gives me a wounded look. "B-but, b-but… it would be so fun!"

"To me or to you?" I ask in a bored manner, trying to maintain my indifferent expression.

"Please?" She asks, linking her hands in front of her and wobbling her lower lip. "Please? I will pay for your ticket and any food you want to buy. So pwetty _please_?"

I give a firm shake of my head and pick up the pace with few steps. "Not going to happen, Rin-chan. Ask someone else from work."

"But I want to go with you!" She whines and skips next to me. "Besides, I already asked everyone else to join us, but they said," she shifts her face to look like one of the men behind the cashier, "busy, not going," her face shifts for the second time to look like another coworker, "I have a funeral to attend to."

"Sometimes that quirk of yours scares me," I laugh, inching away, but she latches for the second time on my person, causing both of us to almost stumble down on the concrete road down the hill.

She gives me a half-glare. "Oh, yeah? If my power is so bad, how about yours?"

Rin doesn't mean anything bad, ever. Even though I have not known her for even half a year, I know this. She's truly someone who merely enjoys having a good time and merely having friends around. However, her question makes my heart skip a beat just a tad bit and for a moment I wish she could just close her mouth and be quiet for five minutes. The latter sends a pang of small piercing guilt in my chest a second later, but I brush it off.

"Why are you so intent on going to this festival anyway?" I ask and let her hands drop from around me. "I thought you were more of a club or a bar girl."

"Well, obviously I _am_ , but this is different. Being from an isolated town up in the north – "

"Rude."

"I figured you don't know about this, but in the Hero Festival you could get a chance to meet your favorite heroes and even the top ten will appear there, or at least half of them. They are pretty busy otherwise, but many always come there to greet their fans and so on and it's a very big event for that very reason," Rin finishes with a girlish smile on her face. "So, I really, really, reaaaallly want to go and meet my favorite hero!"

From seeing her excitement, I am half tempted to say 'yes' to not feel like I stepped on a puppy. "Didn't you just say that not all of them make it there? How can you be sure your hero will be there this year?"

The smaller woman raises her index finger. "But how can I be sure she _isn't_ there if I don't go and see it myself?"

"Then, go, if you want to so badly," I raise my own hands in an exasperated manner, not understanding why she has to be so insistent in this. But I can't really tell how she must be feeling since I couldn't be more impassive about this whole thing.

The pair of soft brown eyes look at me widely, like I have grown a second head. "Are you nuts? I will look like a loner freak with nothing else to do with my time but stalking some hero I am absolutely crazy about. With someone with me, I won't look so bad. Don't you want to meet your favorite hero, too?"

"I don't have a favorite hero, so no," I say with a shake of my head, but laugh again when Rin appears to be dumbstruck by what I have let out. This is the second time in my life that I have ever told anyone of this, but the reaction is way better now.

Looking forward and half-listening to my friend exasperated complains of shock, my mind wonders off to somewhere else entirely. What else would I even be doing at weekends besides going to a bar with Rin at the end of it? I haven't even gotten a call back from the recent job interview I had a while back. Besides, I would without a doubt just be lazing around on a couch or moping around, again.

Compared to all of that – wallowing in my depression – going to a festival doesn't sound too bad. Even if I won't probably get a single thing happening there. _At least there should be food,_ the thought does little to lift my mood, but it's something. Although, I will definitely stand out in a place like a _Hero_ Festival for a reason if I do not even have a favorite, as Rin still seems to be trying to comprehend. It's not an unexpected reaction. The said woman will also definitely continue pestering me until I agree on her request.

"Alright, I will go," I finally sigh out loud. "But you will pay for the tickets _and_ the food, got it?"

"Yes!" Rin's expression brightens immediately, and she laughs. "This is going to be so great! I can't wait! Woohoo!"

"Shhh! Everyone will hear you!" I hiss, looking around the night streets in cold sweat. The last thing I need is an angry old man yelling at us to pipe it down. However, the brown-eyed woman merely laughs at my paling face and continues skipping forward with spring in her steps.

Sighing – I do that a lot lately – I follow her, not wanting to be left behind in the middle of the half-lighted street. However, the reality of the situation starts to finally set in, and I want to groan out loud. The last place I ever imagined going is a party filled with heroes on a weekend. That is precisely the time when everyone should be resting from exhaustion. _Ah, right. I can't relax._ The only thing that could possibly make this regret for decision milder is if I will drink myself to unconsciousness on Saturday and will not wake up until Monday morning to go to work, again.

 _And if I go…_ I purse my lips and then my eyes widen a fraction of their original size. Coming to a sudden halt, I can feel cold sweat trailing down my back. _W-wait a minute here…_

Rin did say that the top ten should be coming to the festival and I start feeling how my heart is starting to pick up its own pace. It's true that I do not have any special hero that I worship like the other normal people in this city, but that doesn't really mean that I… I can't even finish that thought when sweat starts covering my palms.

 _Would it be worth it?_ Of course, not, nothing would be worth _that_ kind of experience. Even though there is a high chance it won't occur.

"Rin-chan," I start, a lump forming in my throat, "I think that – "

"Hmm?" Brown eyes look at me with a happy twinkle.

The words die on my tongue and the lump keeps on growing. My friend – the only good and real friend I have made in this city in all this time – has an expression of glee on her face. She's still all excited from the fact that I agreed to come with her after a little coaxing. How could I possibly make that smile drop all of the sudden and only seconds after agreeing? The question only increases the tension on my shoulders and steals my voice. Frankly, I don't remember the last time I have gotten along with someone this well.

I feel trapped.

"Um," the tongue within my mouth is twisted into a knot. "W-what time does this H-hestival begin?"

… _I can't believe I just said it._

"Oh, right. It's open from nine in the morning till ten at evening. So, we'll have plenty of time to enjoy it, but I was thinking about spending an entire day there, since there is no telling, when those heroes will come there," her smile drops a little. "Is that okay with you? I know that you agreed to come, but I don't plan on keeping you there over twelve hours if you don't want to."

My face nearly twitches from the way she just asked that. Rin can be pushy, but she can also be considered, too. And that's exactly how she pulls my self-consciousness without being aware of it. "It's… okay, I guess? W-we can stay all day there if _you_ want to. It isn't like I have anything else to do that day. So… yeah. Let's go at nine and stay… until the entire thing is over… yeah?"

The brunette's eyes cringe from the sides as a wide smile spreads on her face. She must be too happy to have noticed the awkwardness on my part and laughs out loud. "Yes! Oh, thank you so much, Masako-chan!"

I laugh weakly. "Yeah, no problem."

* * *

 _I'm doomed!_

The pillow and soft cushion of a bed meet with my entire body. I slump down, completely limp from the neck down and let out a groan. This is the only place in the entire world I seem to be getting any peace from lately – my own apartment, my own bed. All else from the outside is merely going against me. No matter if they are a simple stranger or a friend, as has already been proven.

 _Just what have I been doing?_ I sigh and toss around, barely caring if I come close to the edge and am in danger of falling down. My mind is too filled with doubts and regrets from only less than two weeks' time.

First, I meet with someone working for the police and who apparently knows things he shouldn't poke his nose into. And I end up making the mistake of leaving half-way into our conversation, angry and disappointed that I didn't get the answers I had hoped for. Naomasa is one of the authority figures that nobody should mess with, especially because he's now more than aware of what goes inside my head. The memories make me cover my face in shame and horror, as they settle in and remind me of the root of my worries. _He could tell anyone about this… especially to_ _ **him.**_ The bottom of my stomach churns and I whimper into the pillow. _Shouldn't I be the one to reveal things? Maybe I should contact Tsukauchi-san and apologize? N-no, wait. That would be awkward and weird… but what am I supposed to do!?_

Then the second matter is with this Hero Festival or whatever. I really couldn't bring myself to say no to Rin after that kind of excitement practically radiating from her. And now that I have agreed to this, there is no way I can merely cancel the whole thing. Still, wild thoughts of what might happen this Sunday are too terrifying to keep me from fidgeting.

Restless and unable to know what to do with myself and these ridiculous situations anymore, I turn onto my side and turn on the tv with the remote.

" _And now, breaking news from the shores of Hokkaido!"_

The mention of my old home causes a jolt course throughout my entire body. The depressing thoughts are pushed away immediately by the newscaster whether they want it so or not and I sit up straight on the bed, eyes widely focused on the screen.

The first thing I notice on the screen is the face of the reporter and behind him a scenery of dark waters. It's clearly an evening wherever this is being shown from, but the sight of it makes my heart skip a beat. It could be just any random beach in Japan, but knowing its real location makes this different. Memories of how I used to play on the shores with my grandpa flash before my eyes, but those images shatter, the moment the reporter grabs the attention for the second time, and I frown deeply. What on earth is there to be reported in Hokkaido, to begin with? The last time I checked, this channel focuses mostly on the local areas or cities.

" _Recently, series of strange cases involving…"_

The rest of the sentence is cut off by the sound of the doorbell. For the second time, I jump and whirl around to face the door. There is no way anyone would have business with me at this hour, so I think that the sound is hallucination on my part. But when there is a second ring I start worrying and get suspicious.

 _Who on earth…?_

Few faces do pop into my mind, but none of them pretty much make sense. Rin doesn't know where I really live, for instance. And she's the only one I can imagine doing a crazy stunt like this on me, so it's no wonder how carefully I start stepping towards the front door as the bell ringing continues. It isn't a rushed or violent one, but whoever is behind the door does it constantly with a monotonously slow rhythm.

In an instant – between my bed and the door – I am reminded of a horror film I saw once. It was a long time ago, but I do remember a scene where the character heard a knock on the door and went to open it. Like I, they also had been confused from whoever it could have been disturbing their evening… and soon after opening the door, they were dead. The next morning the body was found and that was pretty much the whole thing the movie showed on that poor fellow.

A shiver travels down my spine and I freeze just a few feet away from the door. _Should I pretend I am not home?_

"Maki Masako!" A voice calls out, volume lowered by the wooden door.

"Eep!" An unintentional yelp escapes from my mouth and the color from my face fades. The sound escaped accidentally not because I was terrified of hearing that scratchy and angry voice, but because I immediately recognized it. _G-gran Torino!?_

"I know you're in there! So, open up already!" The crankiness in his voice increases and instead of ringing the doorbell anymore, the old hero seems to settle on knocking.

Baffled and panicked, I bolt to the door with much faster steps than before and twist the handle and its lock. There is a small click and the door opens only how much the chain attached between it and the wall allows. And sure enough, the grey-bearded man is standing there in his yellow costume, face blank and on a permanent frown.

"What," I start, glancing around the empty hallway, "do you think you're doing? People will hear you!"

Instead of getting irritated at my tone as I expect, he merely blinks once. "Are you going to let this poor old man in, or what? The _taiyaki_ will get cold out here."

" _Tai..._ " I trail off, not believing what I am hearing from him so casually. I do, however, give him a second look and see a white paper bag. I end up sighing, closing the door for a minute, unlocking the chain and opening the entire thing over again. Now, I have a full view of the small man and he of me. We both stare at one another for a second or two, until my frown deepens, and I cross my arms. "Do you have _any_ idea what time it is? Why are you even here? You crazy?"

A white bushy eyebrow is raised above the black mask. "Is that any way to talk to a man who has merely come to check, if you are doing well?"

"Well, you have seen me. I am fine… You can leave now," I say back calmly, not liking how he has suddenly appeared on my doorstep and interrupted my tv watching. Speaking of that, I can still hear it faintly from behind me and start counting the costs for electricity.

It's only for a moment, but it appears as though Sorahiko's eye twitches. "The last time I saw you, you were barely conscious."

My face flushes and I have to bite down whatever it's that threatens to come out of my mouth. "Yeah, right. But I wasn't at home back then."

"Just let me in. I walked all the way here and my poor knees are already giving up," he complains, patting one of his legs with his cane.

I breathe in and out, both is exasperation and thoughtfulness. This isn't exactly how I planned my evening to go, but it seems like nothing in my life goes my way anymore.

"Besides, I don't think you would want us to have a conversation out here," he simply states and adjusts the white bag in his hand. The pair of grey eyes look up at me in time to catch the reaction I get, and I wish to just slam the entre door at his face.

I have become rigid, stiff as a board, but refuse to budge. That's probably what he wants to see, as well. The time when this same old came into the food store I work in is suddenly flashing in my memories. I was like this back then, too. Unsure, shocked, surprised and worried are only a few words that could have and could even now describe what I am going through. And just like back then, the old hero Grand Torino has thrown me completely off.

The retired hero sees the subtle twitch from my part next and gives a dry smirk, waving the bag of _taiyakis._ "I recall you enjoying these last time. C'mon. Humor this old geezer a bit."

It's exactly when he finishes speaking that I feel a faint growl somewhere within my stomach. I am lucky that it isn't loud, but it does make me bite down on my lower lip in embarrassment. I don't know if I am so bothered by everything recently and under too much strain, but I remember only now that my fridge is empty, save for one ketchup bottle. There is no way that anyone could live with that, but I'm actually even thinking of surviving this night with only that and tomorrow head over to some bar.

The thought of alcohol and food make the stomach churn even more. It should be obvious that the former of the two should not be taken with an empty stomach and that would mean a trip to a grocery store. But here I am being offered free food on a silver platter and without losing any money on the process…

"Fine," I say, more like spit, and inch to the side to make way for the older man. "But as soon as you've eaten, you'll leave."

"Fine by me," he says easily and waltzes in without any sign of having leg problems.

The moment he's in, I close the door, putting the lock on firmly. However, if it only takes a bag full of _taiyaki_ to pursue me to unlock the whole thing, then I see almost no reason to put it there, to begin with. The thought is half-terrifying, but I still manage to feel at ease as soon as the sound of soft 'click' reaches my ears.

I make my way to the kitchen, which is directly next to my smaller living room and bedroom if you could even call them that, and nearly trip over the small old man who has stopped out of nowhere.

As soon as she stops, Sorahiko's eyes snap up at her. "How can you live in this dump?"

There is a perfectly good reason why I don't experience complete annoyance by his accusation, but do wince, like a child being scolded by a parent. The apartment isn't exactly what either my grandpa or anyone in that manner, would consider clean. The shelves and different surfaces that have not been touched for a while are covered in dust, but some covers the corners on the floor and have gathered up into small hills. They are not the only problem, though. Newspapers, magazines are laying in one pile at the corner next to the bed and the rest is scattered across the entire apartment.

In a second, my face flushes with different shades of red and white. Sure, it's shameful that a young adult like me has this kind of order, but half of me is a bit irritated by the critic. Did he actually expect something else from me, especially after having an emotional rollercoaster for months? My moods jumping up and down whenever they please has made it more than difficult to even remember when I would need to eat at some points. Last time when Sorahiko actually dragged my drunken-self here, he had only been lucky that I managed to tidy up everything a day before.

"It's my house," I say simply and start pulling old plates from the table. "You don't like it, you can always leave."

When I look back at him, deep frown forms on the old hero's face and his gaze is full of disapproval, no doubt from my rude tone. But instead of getting angry – a big relief on my part – he merely chooses to huff and sit on the table, head barely peeking over the edge of the table.

A snort almost escapes from me, but I hold it in, deciding not to comment on his short stature. "Do you want any tea?"

He gives the area one last nasty glance, clearly not liking how untidy it's, but gives one gruff nod. For the second time, I sigh mentally from relief.

Wanting to keep him this way, I quickly start preparing the drinks, while listening to the faint sound of the television. To my disappointment, though, the whole thing has switched to commercials. The news from Hokkaido have stopped coming and it's doubtful they will continue later.

"How's the work going for you?" Sorahiko asks, suddenly, nearly making me drop the stuff I have gathered.

 _Is he making small talk?_ The water has started boiling and it's pretty much the only thing keeping an awkward silence at bay. "It's good… How's Izuku-kun doing? "

It surprises me for a moment that I had almost forgotten the entire boy and am only now even thinking of him after what feels like months. I am immediately recalling the last time we spoke – just like with the flashback of Sorahiko – and feel sourness spreading on my tongue. He was covered in bruises and scratches last time, like a punching bag or a ragdoll.

The hero tilts his grey head. "The who?"

"Wha…? Izuku," I press on, dropping the honorifics, "was your… pupil, or something? You helped him with his training a few weeks ago and – "

"I think that these have grown cold," he cuts me off and peeks into the bag he has set on the table. "Could you heat these up, please?"

A frown forms on my face. "Are you serious? What about Iz – oh, forget it!" I shake my head, not having the energy to deal with Gran Torino anymore. Honestly, his nonchalant and dismissing attitude is more than a bit frightening. _Maybe he truly did only come to check how I am doing?_ A lump forms in my throat and I bite down on my lip while dropping the _taiyaki_ onto a plate.

Honestly, the last time I got heavily drunk was a bit startling. It was more so than that, too. And that mistake from my part has seemingly delivered a retired old man to my doorsteps as some kind of bodyguard… As I am thinking of this in bewilderment, my eyes follow the spinning of the food in the microwave in a trance and discomfort returns. The sight of the fish-shaped pastry doesn't look so inviting anymore.

 _Think of the happy days,_ I chant, rubbing my face tiredly with my hand. _He'll go away soon. I'll have my peace soon, I just need to stay calm._

"Masako, I have wanted to ask you something," Sorahiko says suddenly through the humming of the machine and I roll my eyes.

Of course, he'll without a doubt start the conversation we had at the park at one point. Or perhaps he has come up with another new and twisted idea to get under my skin and that will result in a mental breakdown for both of us? Whatever it's, I feel like grabbing the hidden bottle in the cupboard and emptying it in a second.

Slowly, I turn and lean against the counter, watching him evenly. "What?"

The tv is still on, so of course, the silly music coming from it ruins the atmosphere. What's supposed to be a tense and serious moment like in a courtroom is shattered by the sound of a kid's song from a pudding commercial. It's almost enough to make the corners of my lips twitch up. Almost. What ruins it is how I take a notice where the house intruder is looking to.

This place is supposed to be a temporary settlement. Almost nothing old – or at least something that wasn't bought in a flea market – is in the apartment or packed away in a closed-off box somewhere within a closet. However, there is one particular object that has been placed on the windowsill, barely covered by see-through curtains. It's a photograph of a smiling man.

My grandpa wasn't too young looking, despite being somewhere in his seventies. He could have easily been mistaken for someone over ninety with both his worn-out face and thin body structure. The greyish strands of thin hair are lined to the side of his spotted head, but the top is completely bare and slightly pointed. But what draws the most attention are the pair of dark eyes sunken into the skull, glittering with light that does not suit the old appearance. And behind him is a scenario of a field from Hokkaido. The picture is the last one of him like that, taken a summer before he fell ill.

"Did Ren suffer?"

The microwave lets out a sound that it's finished warming the _taiyaki._ However, I do not make a move to open it until I realize that I have stood still for more than necessary. The question is unexpected and the warm blood in my veins freezes over. The memories from that pure white hospital room have been pushed away for some time now, but I can feel them slowly crawling back into my consciousness. And I remember hating that rubbery smell and the feeling of that wooden chair against my back while sitting next to an open window.

"No," I say quietly and robotically reach out to take the warm food. The plate is hot, though, especially around the edges and that's exactly where I hold it. The tips of my fingers numb and ache from the heat and I bite down on my tongue. "His body gave out when he was sleeping. The doctors said he passed away peacefully."

"Tell me, are you planning on keeping your promise to him?" It's merely pure luck on Sorahiko's part that I manage to place the plate down before he finishes his second question. But when his words register in my head, I become stiff and whip my head up to look at him. Grey eyes meet my wide ones calmly.

"Where…?" I trail off but close my mouth in a second, gaze dropping down to the floor. "The letter."

"Yes, he told me, in quite a detail, of it," the old hero sighs heavily, reaching out for the first pastry. "He also wrote that I shouldn't interfere."

 _Grandpa…_ I nearly whine, but sit down, holding in a sigh. "Well, at least that's settled."

"Back to my question, then," he says and takes a bit, munching, but then looking at me again. "Are you planning on doing it?"

"…Don't know," I say simply and grab myself a _taiyaki._ I am quite proud of how nonchalant I appear on the outside, but on the inside, there is something quivering in my chest. The last thing I need is to be reminded of the last days with my grandparent.

Honestly, I expect Sorahiko to get irritated from the lighthearted answer, but for the second time, he goes against the expectations. He merely sighs again and continues eating his part of the meal. That must be the first action he has done tonight to cause my shoulders to slump down from tension lifted off from them.

Nevertheless, the damage has already been done; my eyes sting.

"But…" I start again, gathering my scattered thoughts. It's rather hard, though, and my hands find their way to clench the fabric of my loose pants. "I suppose I should decide, soon."


	6. Chapter 6: The memories unlocked

_Lily was a little girl  
Afraid of the big, wide world  
She grew up within her castle walls  
Now and then she tried to run  
And then on the night with the setting sun  
She went in the woods away  
So afraid, all alone_

 _-By Alan Walker (Lily)_

* * *

Chapter 6: The memories unlocked

* * *

 _It is a quiet morning. Rather, the silence is deafening. The countryside roads are quiet, as if every possible member of the small community has decided that today is not the day when they go out. Even the birds seem to have become mute and the old neighbor cat hasn't started yowling at them or other pets. The loudest noise must be the heavy drops of water coming from the broken tap that hasn't been fixed for weeks._

 _A page of newspaper is turned slowly. There is a beat of yet another silence after, before the entire thing drops down to the table. The corner of it ends up into freshly brewed teacup. The paper damps and dark color of the liquid spreads on it._

 _The girl bites her lip, the wounds on chapped skin stinging equally to the burning in her eyes. The light snack of freshly sliced apples is ignored. She looks out of the window, curling her knees closer to her chest. The text and pictures of the paper haunts her, even while she doesn't look. The image are imprinted into her brain like viruses in a computer. The device won't work, and something is constantly taking it apart and exploiting it._

 _She can't stand it: while the sun shines brightly outside and the season has moved on to summer, the pain in her chest doesn't go away._

 _Slowly, her hands move back to the newspaper. Then, they clench, sound of paper being crushed piercing the air. The girl is going to destroy at least small part of her pain with this._

" _I thought I told you to stop reading those things."_

 _The paper is snatched from her hands in a second and she flinches. The tone the person uses sounds displeased, if not irritated. However, contrary to that sound, a warm hand is placed on top of her head to stroke along the straight locks._

 _The gesture is too much and her stone-like mask crumbles. Starting with her lower lip, which has started wobbling. Then, her shoulders slump down, before drops start falling from her eyes like the water from the tap. The pain in her chest just keeps on spreading. It goes all the way to her clenching fingers, which would want to swat the hand away, but become immobile._

 _Her throat starts hurting too. It tightens, feeling like a lump is slowly forming in it and preventing her breathing._

" _They say (*statistic noise) is going to jail."_

"… _Yes."_

" _They aren't telling where," she says with an even voice, frightening sound considering how fast her knuckles are turning white. "Will… can I go and…"_

 _As if to answer her question without words, the older man places his hand on hers. It is roughened by age, but warm, nonetheless. Her tears almost halt, there is a small spark of hope that is crushed by the defeated expression on the man's face._

 _He shakes his head gently, sadly._

 _Her body trembles. The pain… it has spread to her mind. It clouds everything. Even the sweet smell of freshly warmed pastries fades away. The kind touch on her hand turns icy and she draws her limb back to cover her wet face. There is no warmth left in this place, everywhere she looks only bad thoughts and memories resurface._

" _I'm sorry, Masako," he whispers and draws her in for an embrace. "There is nothing I can do to stop this."_

"… _They were talking about it in school," she whispers, not willing to hug him back. There is no control left in her limbs, but still somehow, she manages to clench them over her face and feel how nails dig into the skin. "T-they say it serves (*statistic noise) right."_

 _He stiffens, hugs her tighter. The girl's body is so small – she hasn't eaten properly. He is frightened – one wrong move and the entire child could shatter into pieces._

 _Her eyes crack open. The once bright orbs are blank and red. "T-they say that (*statistic noise) should just die."_

" _Hush!" He buries her face into his shoulder, holding her head in place and feeling dampness forming on the shirt. "Do not listen to such words! They do not know what they are talking about."_

" _They want (*statistic noise) dead! T-they w-want me dead!" She doesn't whisper anymore but cries out so much that her throat hurts. "T-they keep on coming t-to the house a-and y-yell and s-scream! I-I don't w-want to go b-back! I want my (*statistic noise)!"_

 _The man grits his teeth, feeling how small pieces of his already destroyed heart begins to turn into dust from every wail coming from this child. He can feel it all – the sadness, fear, pain, devastation seem to be everything he is accustomed to experiencing lately. But not this child. This child shouldn't be saying or hearing these things._

 _People are cruel. It has been plain to see from the rotten fruit splattered across the house's outer walls, the threats being thrown both verbally and through letters, vandalization… The faces of those who once smiled at them have turned into scorns and glares. Not only does nobody smile or help anymore, they even encourage this kind of behavior. Nobody_ _is willing to help. In this world filled with people possessing the ability to do so, it's both cruel and ironic._

 _He doesn't let the girl go, even when her screams pierce his ears or when her cries turn into small whimpers and she slumps against him._

 _If she goes back out into the society, there might be – no, there definitely will be – a day, when the hatred of those people turns physical. And then it will be his eternal regret of not doing anything to stop it. He is now the only one who has the power to do anything, to ease her pain just a little bit._

" _You can stay," he says and strokes her hair. "You don't have to go back – you_ won't _go back."_

 _Slowly, the girl raises her head from his chest. Her eyes, puffy and still fresh of tears, look up at him in small spark of hope. He wipes a tear away._

" _I can't erase what has happened nor what you will have to go through, but I can make sure that those people will never come after you."_

"… _Never?"_

" _Never," he confirms and presses his forehead to hers. "I can't save your (*statistic noise)," he says and the girl flinches, "but we both have to stay strong here. With this, I will make sure nobody knows the truth about you or where you truly came from… do you want that? Will you accept it that_ nobody _will know your origin or that (*statistic noise) is your (*statistic noise)?"_

 _The girl's throat has been dry from the beginning, but now it is positively aching. The previous coldness is melting, though. For a while, she merely keeps on gazing at him, almost lost. She may as well be that way literally. Then, there is clarity in her eyes._

" _C-can… can I and_ he _still remember?" She asks, voice back to the soft whisper._

 _The man pauses, but then nods. "Of course."_

 _For the second time, she pauses. "Yes… please, do it."_

" _You don't have to beg," he says gently and brushes her bangs away. "This would have needed to be done from the beginning… I am sorry, for not doing this to you sooner."_

 _She tears up again, not sure why, though. He doesn't have anything to apologize for. He has been the only one at her side to this point. Or maybe all the hate she feels has been spread so wide and long that there is no strength left in her to direct it at him anymore._

" _Grandpa."_

" _Yes?"_

" _I hate them."_

"… _I know."_

" _Can you erase them, too?"_

"… _No."_

 _But he wishes he could._

* * *

"Hm? What's with that look?"

"Do you eat _anything_ else besides _taiyaki_?"

The old hero snorts. "Do you young people eat anything besides cup noodles?"

The image of the ten flatly crushed cups within my trashcan appear in my mind. _Well, he has a point._ "Sweets are a different matter."

He snorts for the second time but doesn't stop his walk towards the door. In fact, his pace is pretty leisure and carefree. "Someone of my age doesn't have to worry about such things. Besides, Ren told me what kind of sweet tooth you have."

Thankfully, he is walking in front of me. Otherwise, he would have caught a glance of how my body freezes up. I do not even think too much how it does, it just stiffens from his words. Every muscle in the leg halts, not by command, but from instinct. The last thing I expected him to comment on was something to do with grandpa. Or rather, in such an attached tone after the discussion we had. I bite down on my lower lip, ignoring the throb in my chest.

Underneath my bangs, I glance up at the man to see him happily chewing his sweets. The lines on his face seem to melt with every bite. The table, the sound of eating and sweet smell bring nostalgia and it does nothing to clear the air around my head. _Does he really think it's alright to mention him now?_ Sure, the two of them were friends, but…

A bit begrudgingly, I take a bite out of _taiyaki,_ teeth clenched and loud. The usual sweetness isn't there. Instead, something aching to bitterness spreads into my mouth. Unlike the elder on the other side of the table, wrinkles merely spread as I start frowning. I do not even do so consciously. _How can he smile like that?_ When he heard grandpa was dead – that he died over a month ago – Sorahiko was probably only thinking his friend hadn't had the time to write message back to him for some time.

Sure, he was shocked, but that wasn't the reaction I wanted. I realize that only now. While this old man is happily eating this treat and speaking of grandpa with such light manner… I feel as if glass pieces are being stabbed into my heart.

At last, the plate is empty.

"You have eaten your _taiyaki_ , you can go now."

Sorahiko huffs, whirling around at the door and pointing his wooden cane – or more like a staff – at me. "Is that any way to treat a guest?"

It is my turn to let out a huff and open the handle. The cool night air blows in and makes the smell of sweets fade. I gather lungful of that air, savoring how an invisible weight is slowly inching off from my shoulders. Just a bit more and he would be gone from this house.

"The last person I want to hear talking about basic courtesies, after _forcibly_ entering my house, is you."

"What do you mean forcibly? You are the one who allowed me in, in the first place," he grumbles the last part under his breath, but not quietly enough.

"Only because I was worried that you might not leave me alone otherwise."

He steps on the other side, looking up from over his shoulder. He has a small smirk on his face. " _Taiyaki_ was delicious, wasn't it?"

Stupefied at the abrupt change in subject I can merely blink before giving a subtle nod. Although, I have no real opinion how it tasted – too many memories have been flooding in. The air is chilly, and I wrap my arms around myself in discomfort. _Can't he just leave already?_

Apparently, he can't, because there isn't any sound of fading footsteps coming anywhere in the hallway. He continues standing in front of me and I can't bring myself close the door in his face. At least not with that serious glint – it comes out of nowhere – that is turning his previously smirking face into a blank mask. I anticipate what he is about to say or at least hint towards it. The acknowledgement of his makes my gut tighten into messy tangles. That is the same look he has shown me a few times and I don't like it.

But somehow, I can't get fully angry at his behavior. Maybe it is because what time it is, how tired I feel or how he has confirmed even more firmly his closeness with grandpa.

"Masako… we already spoke about this, but you can't keep on thinking forever. The time is running out."

* * *

" _I suppose I should decide, soon."_

* * *

The sensation of my heart pounding like an uncontrollable drum and the skin of my palms glistening with sweat is already a very familiar sensation. It is uncomfortable, especially with the hot sun blazing – it is definitely doing that on purpose. I grit my teeth, bearing with both physical and mental strain, despite only standing a few feet away from my destination.

I took a drink before this and I still manage to feel like a wreck.

It is another police station… I am actually hesitating to go in. This has happened before because I was nervous, but after number of rejections and being chased out, I thought that I would be used to this. But no. There is something to it now. The shame of waltzing into this place for the second time – that is right, I have decided to go over all the stations again. This is a sign that I have not given up. But…

"… _people will start asking more questions and that will put you at risk."_

Tsukauchi's serious and grave face flashes in my head. I bite down on my lower lip. It is cracking, like a barren region's landscape. Hints of metal meet with my tongue and the taste spreads to the rest of my mouth. I recall the emotions I felt, when talking with him about this. I was angry, frustrated, full of conviction that I would not back down.

" _The person you thought you knew may not be the same anymore and there are risks."_

Of course, there will always be 'risks', as he had put it more than once. Back then, those words were mere flies that I swatted away nonchalantly. It should be the same this time around, but…

 _Why won't my legs move?_

They have been impaled into the ground. No matter how many times the voice in my head commands them to move, they won't inch. Half of me struggles to turn around and hop onto the nearest bullet train. That would make things far easier – the weight in my chest would disappear, at least a little bit. It isn't like this is the only day that the station is open.

"Huh? Maki-san?"

I nearly jump out of my skin, thinking the worst and that the person behind me ends up being the detective I wish to avoid. However, as it turns out, the voice is too youthful to belong to that middle-aged man. So, my shoulder droop down, when I end up looking at the messy green head on top of a freckled teenager.

"Izuku-kun," I greet, forcing a small smile. "It has been a while."

It is strange. Out of all people in this giant crowd and in this city, why did I have to bump into him here?

A slight flush rises to his cheeks. "Y-yes! I hope you have been doing well."

"What have you been up to?" I ask conversationally, not really knowing how to feel about this encounter. What I am mostly interested in, is the backpack he is carrying. It makes him look like a schoolboy – which he is – and remind me of something. _That is right – it will be summer soon._

"Oh, well…" he trails off, obviously being thoughtful of what he should tell.

"You are going somewhere?" My curiosity is obvious the way I gesture towards his backpack.

He visibly jolts and a look of fresh excitement sparkles in his eyes. The corners of those orbs wrinkle, the smile pulling round cheeks ever so widely to the sides until a row of bright teeth are revealed from end to end to the world. It is just as bright as the sun above the city, but not so painful as to cause discomfort. He looks so gentle with that expression.

"Yes! I am on my way to buy some things for my class' camp trip tomorrow."

 _Such a contagious smile._

"Camp, huh. Sounds nice," I say, truly feeling wistful. Without really realizing it, I smile a little.

Izuku blinks a bit, looking a bit confused. "Maki-san, do you perhaps have plans for the summer?"

I let out a skittish laugh. "I wish. There is… still some stuff I have to do. By the way, have you visited Gran Torino recently?"

Again, that sheepish look and head rubbing thing he does in nervousness appears. Green eyes look down a bit. "Unfortunately, I have been too busy with my hero studies that… well, I haven't had the time. Is he doing well?"

"He is…," I start, trailing off. My mind whistles back to last evening in a second. The memories of that old man's attitude and him eating freshly baked sweets bring both exasperation. "He is in _great_ health – no need to _ever_ worry about that."

The young boy chuckles, if not a bit awkwardly. "Yes, I am sure he will always be that way."

Talking of that one old hero takes me back to the time I met this bright boy – it was at that rundown house. Back then, he was covered in bruises and scratches like a worn-out rag doll. But now, he seems to be doing fine. Expect… there are obvious muscles on his uncovered arms. Like a few weeks back, he is wearing a t-shirt, showing his limbs to obvious stares.

Children of his age back at Hokkaido didn't have these kind of bodies. It shows the difference between those aspiring to do office jobs and those working towards becoming heroes. The more I think about it, the staggered I become from the difference. Just how much does someone like him have to work for to gain what it takes? I can't wipe away the memory of his previous injuries, nor what I have seen the heroes do out in their patrols so far – it is dangerous.

Izuku's facial muscles make an interesting expression. "Maki-san, is something wrong?"

"Why do you want to be a hero?"

"H-huh?" Those large eyes of his blink in confusion.

I smile a bit at his surprised face. Although, it is barely evident on my lips. "I am kind of interested in hearing what you have to say to that. So, tell me – why do _you_ want to become a hero?"

"Why do I…" he looks down at the ground for a moment and then back up. "I want to save people with a smile on my face."

I do not say anything to that. Honestly, I have no words or sentences forming in my mind that could be brought up. I merely stand there, on the same spot, watching as he continues elaborating. His smile is gone, but… there is passion in his gaze.

The knot in my gut tightens.

"I want to grow stronger for that," he says and grows sheepish again. "Although, I still have a long way to go."

 _That is it?_ My mouth dries up. It was dry to begin with, but now it might as well be cracking and crumbling down like stones into sand. Truth to be told, I am not sure what kind of answer I was expecting to get from him. This, however, throws me off a bit. He could have given me any reason, any reason at all that could make him seem like the rest of the lot. I have no idea, why someone would want to be a hero. There are options, but they all have been the same.

I look down at his arms again. They are as muscular as ever, but now I can see faint bruises that haven't quite healed yet. That or they are new ones he has gotten only recently. Somehow, I half-hope that they appeared from merely bumping into things.

"A smile on your face?" I ask, not fully forming the meaning inside my mind.

He nods, looking up at the crowd walking past us. "I know that when someone is in danger, they are scared – frightened. They desperately will need someone to save them from trouble… and I want to be that person. Someone people can depend on. I have come a long way with the help of others around me, so I can't let them down and do this half-heartedly either. You may not believe it, but I used to be… pretty weak myself. But someone also once told me, that no matter what, even if I am the one who is scared, smiling in the face of everything I am facing will make the people I save feel safe as well."

The heat must be getting into my head. For a moment, a wave of dizziness passes over me. It spreads with nausea across my body like a wave. Not the gentle kind that laps the shores of beaches, but a sharp splash against sharp rocks next to a cliff.

I didn't ask for his life story. He is blabbering, but for some reason, I can't shut my ears or idly listen to this rambling. No, I take in every word. Watch how his expression changes from confidence, to flushed and from there back to confidence and joy. The smile on his face is stretching, his back is straightening, and the knuckles of his hands are turning pale white.

"If I can do that…" he looks at me in the eyes with conviction I have almost never seen anyone else wear. It brightens his green eyes even further. They looked like fresh leaves before, but now they are gems. "Then I have become the strongest hero."

There is a pause in the air. Everything has stopped moving a while ago, but now even the air is paralyzed. Or maybe the latter is me. I can barely feel anything anymore, I am numb to the heat, the sun, the weight of my backpack and feeling of sweaty bangs clinging to my neck. All I am able to do is breathe through my nose.

This is like with the police station behind me. My legs won't move, no matter how much my blank mind tells me to.

"You sound like…"

" _All Might."_

This time, the blush on his cheeks becomes painfully obvious. It is easy to describe what face he is making, too – he has been an open book the entire time. He grins a bright grin, teeth shining, and eyes closed. No doubt, behind those eyelids there are stars in his orbs.

"He is the kind of hero I want to grow up to be," Izuku replies shyly, bashfulness making him appear even more innocent.

Again, I stay silent. He notices this and the smile on his face slips off. I almost feel bad for causing such an expression fade, but I can't. The rims of my heart are slowly turning into ice cold frames. _The kind who smiles, the kind who saves…_

Slowly, I realize what I should have expected from this kid. Nothing less than this same light I saw on the day we met at Gran Torino's old apartment and the same strident pain that passes through my chest. I am torn between two emotions, as I look at the boy with green hair.

"Good for you, Izuku-kun," I say, not unkindly, but not with encouragement either. It is a flat tone. "I have to go now. Have fun at camp."

"O-oh, yes. Thank you very much. Have a good day," he bows politely.

I walk past him, shoulder barely grazing his. I have to get away from him…

Before I say something, I _will_ regret.

* * *

 _How long can you keep on smiling, Izuku-kun?_

I drag my feet down the stone stairs. Every step feels heavier than the last one. The documents are clutched in my hands and I shove them into my bag. They were neatly piled, when I walked in. Now, they are crumbled and dirty from the ink that came off from the desk worker's fingers. They threw it back at me almost as soon as they took it.

The person behind the glass was different, but they gave me the same answer as the last one. _"We cannot fulfill your request. Please leave,"_ is what they all have said and will be saying.

Why? I have heard those words before, so why do I still keep on getting hurt from them. No, this doesn't happen to me because of what they say, it is because of how they look at me. Those faces – disturbance and shock.

 _Can you keep on smiling, when you will be beaten down?_

My foot never gets to step on the last step. It slips on the edge of the previous one and I go sprawling down. The ends of my knees meet with concrete, there is a sound of dull 'thud' and footsteps halting. People's burning gazes impale me, as I struggle to hastily collect the stuff I dropped. Nobody stops to help me, they stop to _judge_ me.

The skin on my face burns. I was already humiliated inside the police station – not the first time – why not throw the judgement of civilians from the outside in? It isn't like I am not used to that either. What are they expecting to happen? That someone other than them comes and helps me? The answer to my question becomes clear, when the ones who stopped continue walking again.

I look down at my palms. The skin is red and coming off in scraps. It burns and the pain shoots up the bones from the blunt force they took. It hurts.

 _Izuku-kun… what can you do, when there is someone you can't save?_

* * *

"It is seriously going to be the most amazing time you have _ever_ had!" Rin is grinning widely, holding her own drink loosely in her grip. The sight is relaxing. "Hey! Are you listening?"

"Yes," is what simply comes out of my mouth, as my attention switches towards the people swarming around us. Our seats are at the very middle of the bar, so it is in the direct eyesight for all of them. I didn't want to be here, I wanted and still want the corner.

The bar is full of people, almost just like the last time. There is music, too, and almost everyone is on the floor, jamming to the beat. Most of them look like they are having a great time. Still, even with a soft drink in front of me, I feel like there are drums inside my skull, breaking the bones. There is pretty much nothing for me to do – the last thing I want to do is get on the dancefloor with the sea of people.

It's too warm and suffocating in here. That's a one thing in common with her first time in a bar in this city. The same can be said about the company as well.

A regret of ever being curious of the bar life has started to from within my chest during the first hour. It must be because of coincidence or the location, but there have been a few strange people in here that have wanted for me and Rin to follow them somewhere. This happened only once, of course, but since then it has been somewhat hard for me to relax. It is as if I see every new person as a villainous creature and cover behind fake smile and politeness.

I don't like this. Back in Hokkaido, there is not a single time that I recall ever feeling this kind of paranoid emotion towards anyone. All you need is to use common sense while dealing with people, but… _This place really doesn't suit me._ Rather, people in the cities are much wilder and generally have different atmosphere compared to the ones in a countryside, somehow.

The time when a bar is almost empty, during the day, is where I would like to be at. That is when it's possible to at least hear your own thoughts without the loud drumming of the music grinding your ears. The only thing making this bearable is

 _So loud._

"C'mon! You aren't listening, Masako-chan!"

A touch on my shoulder jolts me back. When I turn, an unfamiliar green face of a lizard is staring back at me. Despite half-expecting this, I almost fall from my seat. "R-rin-chan, you are using your quirk, again."

"Huh?" She blinks in confusion, but then laughs, pointy white teeth in full view. Slowly, though, her face morphs back into her normal one. There is a faint touch of flush red on her cheeks. "Oops!" She shrugs innocently. "But seriously, you look like shit."

"Sorry, but it's kind of boring here."

"You should have let me go and I could have hooked us up with some cute guys," she mutters, but not quietly enough.

I shake my head, mental image draining the color from my face. "No way."

"Party pooper… Well, honestly, there really isn't anyone my type in here tonight either," Rin sighs and swirls the drink absentmindedly. "Maybe, we should just go already."

"Like I didn't say that an hour ago."

"Hush, now. I have to use the room reserved for us ladies – be back soon!" The tipsy woman starts walking towards the restroom at the back – right over the human mass – and manages to stay upright with her heels.

That is how I am left sitting alone there, clutching my drink with more tension than previously. Slowly – the time is becoming much slower the longer I stare at the moving limbs of strangers – I turn back around in the chair and start sipping the bittersweet alcohol. It is a struggle to decided whether the taste is good or tolerable. Probably somewhere between, just like this night. Either I experience the thrill from drinking and the atmosphere surrounding others is seeping into me, or the monotonous pattern of dancing is too tedious to keep a watch with the constant sitting.

If it weren't for the silent voice in the head nagging me not to take a few more drinks to lighten up the moment, I would drain more than a couple glasses. After all, I should still be somewhat sober, when leaving this place. The one who would and should make sure that Rin won't do anything stupid is me. Although, I admit that she deserves the killer headache waiting tomorrow morning.

 _I'm going to be more responsible one here. I will_ _ **not**_ _falter –_

"Lil' lady, this is certainly a strange coincidence," a voice drawls from next to me – a seat who was not occupied a second ago.

Honestly, I don't really think I am the one being talked to. The voice doesn't belong to anyone I recognize at first hand and my gaze stays on the table for a few second in uncertainty. But then, gradually, those seconds become unbearable and suffocating – I have to turn my eyes from the shiny surface to the right and see my own reflection in two small round glasses.

Immediately, uneasiness pierces my gut. The stranger is smiling, showing his one missing tooth at the upper row of teeth. Whether the way he is dressed is what sets me on the edge – the flashy purple suit, the glasses and the golden rings decorating his fingers – or that it is truly I who he is talking to and looking at. Whatever his expression means, it doesn't appear too friendly from where I am sitting. In fact, I feel almost violated the longer he keeps his gaze steadily on my shaken one.

He does blink once and then that grin and foppish mannerism becomes too familiar. I have seen it all before. Somewhere else, in some other bar, while drinking.

"Is barhopping your hobby, perhaps?" He asks and brings a glass of beer to her lips.

The back of my throat tightens. I don't know what to answer but end up looking to my half-empty drink. "It seems to be yours."

"Nah. Just doing some errands near the area. Usually, I don't even drop by to a bar like this one, but I was craving for a drink," he emphasizes the point by raising his drink once, before another gulp follows. "Alone drinking, are you?"

He is glancing around curiously, like expecting someone to actually come and get me away from here. And honestly, I wish for that to happen, as well. The hem of my skirt is being tugged by my fingers in nervousness – the air has become more uncomfortable. This man hasn't done anything but sweat is covering my palms and I grab my drink, swallowing down the rest of it.

"Actually, I am waiting for a friend. We are planning on just leaving," I say, a tight, but hopefully somewhat sweet smile spreading on my lips. _Why is he talking to me again?_

"I see. That is a disappointment, then," he sighs. However, no matter how his shoulders slightly slump down, the grin on his face doesn't fade. The liquid in the transparent glass is golden, but half of its original amount. "Was looking forward to seeing you drain a few drinks like last time."

The comment is unnecessary, and heat rises to my cheeks. The memories of the first time I met this stranger a while back resurface. The images of the bar and the drinks I had are vivid for a moment and then become murky as a result of getting drunk that day. The events are fuzzy enough, barely any detail left from the alcohol filled state. And without really thinking anything else, I glance at the older man nervously. _Just what did I do?_

Holding back the curiousness of the most shameful time of my entire life, I merely turn in my seat, facing the bar and planning on staying silent. If he wants to talk or ask something, I should probably come up with an excuse during murky water talks – simple as that. Meanwhile, I also can pray for my companion to hurry up in the bathroom.

It is more certain why there is such uneasiness surrounding the atmosphere all of sudden. Purposely or not, the stranger's smile is aloof. There is barley anything else, but amusement lingering in his eyes. Rather fitting for his outwardly appearance. However, there is something else to all of it – an unknown element lurking behind the golden tooth, the shadowing glasses… something unpleasant.

"I-I was that bad, huh?" I stammer, finally getting a response out.

A snort. "Almost had to throw you out, literally."

Immediately, there's a flashback of Gran Torino's disapproving eyes glaring at me through his dark mask. His words from the time when I woke up back in my apartment echo in my ears as a hollow memory. _"Not to mention how you tried to rob that one man of his money."_

"Did you break off with a boyfriend? Sure seemed like that to me," the man says, once again, with bluntness and grin widening. Together with that there is an underlayer of insensitivity.

The words get caught in my throat. Confusion spreads further up and down my body. He wears that grin and appears so easy going, but… his way of talking sends mixed signals. Again, I feel uncomfortable and avert my eyes.

"It was just a bad day," I answer, disguising the discomfort.

"The staff at the police station gave you a rough time, right?"

The cold drink nearly slips from my hands. The glass has long since made the tips of my fingers feel numb, but now that sensation spreads all the way to my wrist and arm. The music and chatter are no longer the suffocating factors, but rather then knowing sharp gaze of the man dressed in purplish suit. It's like the rest of the club doesn't even exist anymore. The air wasn't too clear to begin with and now there is none left for my lungs. The feeling in my gut could be compare to when a person's swallows a stone and feels it drop to the bottom of their stomach.

The reaction I give is obvious and the corners of his eyes wrinkle – a bad sign. A shudder shoots like a lightning down my spine and the chair beneath me scrapes the ground, when I stand up abruptly. A bad move, but not done voluntarily. It's an automatic reaction by involuntary muscle movement and I curse it for making me act so hastily. Now, the panic taking over me is far more visible.

Again, I take a note how the ice spreads to my limbs.

"How do you know that?" The tone of my voice is hollow, almost wheezy.

"I have my ways," saying that, the man drains his drink to the very last drop. The glass is placed down leisurely, wood meeting with the glass in sharp manner.

My hands curl and then clench into fists. _H-he can't know_ _ **everything**_ _… stay calm!_ The screaming of the inner voice does little to slow down my rapid heartbeat, the beating organ might as well soon burst out of my chest. It is not possible that he could –

That nasty grin takes further turn to a new meaning for the word 'sinister'. I feel like throwing up.

The chair next to me is scarped back rather loudly.

"Phew! There sure was a long line to the loonies – ah! H-hey, Masako-chan?"

I don't pretty much think anymore, I can't. My hand automatically grabs Rin's and pulls on it. The act is unlike of me, usually it is her who first does the physical contact, not me. I am usually the victim of her closeness and social skills. But not now. There isn't any room for rational thinking – staying in this place has become unbearable. No matter how many people begin to surround me from all ways possible, only one person's eyes feel like they are boring into my very back. It makes my skin crawl, like worms have hatched underneath the flesh and are starting to move around.

Rin is tugging my hand, which is suddenly clutching hers as strongly as a limb made from iron. I can't hear her words or feel how the ends of her fingers lightly scratch my skin. The alcohol must have drained most of her strength. She stumbles, making things easier for me. Silently, I beg her to stay silent, until we can reach and take the nearest taxi to get out of this place.

The smell of alcohol and perfumes is suddenly foul. I feel sicker.

"You sure you don't want to find out what I know, Masako-chan?"

Involuntarily, my feet stop and Rin bumps into me. The bottom of my gut is a pit, empty, bottomless...

"Maki Masako is your full name, ain't it?"

My jaw is set on a firm line. The heat of the room keeps on fading until I am freezing. Strangely, though, I am sweating like a pig. That is how I could describe the situation – a commodity being taken to slaughterhouse.

 _Don't turn, don't listen, keep on going. He is bluffing, he doesn't know a thing, he is a liar._ My breathing becomes uneven and it takes the strength of every small microscopic cell in the body to make me turn around slowly. There is some distance that I have gained between myself and the bar. However, that doesn't stop the man's face from staying in view nor how his voice carries itself over the music.

He is baiting me. He wants to trigger me to stay.

"Or," he starts and plays with the rim of his drink, dragging on his words, "is your real name – "

"Shut up!"

The outburst comes from my mouth without a second thought, before he can even finish his sentence. The reaction is what he wanted after all – that smirk of his only widens. I do not like the gleam in his eyes.

The music blasts throughout the building. Only a few turn to look towards me in confusion before going back to dancing. The man doesn't even flinch, his lips are moving, but I can't hear anything anymore. I have become deaf.

"Gosh! Masako-chan, let go!" The brunette finally struggles her way out of my hold and blocks my field of vision with her frowning face. Her voice is apparently capable in reaching my ears. "What's up with you!? We have only gotten this party started! We aren't going anywhere!"

She is screaming. Mostly out of irritation and alcohol, but also to get through the loud noise. It feels as if my head is about to burst from sheer tremor of the floor beneath us. _Get out, get her out of here!_

Feeling a chill travel down my spine, I look over at the man. He is still sitting on that same spot, looking at me with a look that causes my gut to tear and clench. This is obviously amusing to him. I am clearly agitated.

Even in her obvious state, Rin manages to place pieces together and looks where my eyes are staring off to. "Do you know him!?"

"No, I don't!" I yell through the music, more from annoyance than the need for her to hear me. "And you need to get back home!"

For the second time without a thought, I grab her arm and start dragging her towards the door.

* * *

It takes a while, but the struggling brunette ends up sitting at the back of the vehicle with a bag close to her mouth. I wrinkle my nose, patting her back and looking sympathetically at the driver. He merely looks back at us through his mirror, not even batting an eye – definitely used to seeing something like this. When I tried seating Rin in his car before, he had handled that pretty well and done so himself.

And then she had started feeling nauseous.

"Take her home, please. Keep the change," I direct the request to the driver and give my friend a water bottle that I had bought in haste from the nearest vending machine.

Half-aware, she grabs it after a few tries and looks at me under her messy bangs. "I want to party."

"I know, but you need to go now. You are too drunk."

"You are the drunk," she whines and points her finger at me, but then slumps back against the seat. "It smells like noodles in here."

I direct one last exasperated look at the quiet driver. "Just take her home now."

The door closes and I watch the taxi drive past the front of the club and twist behind a corner before being truly gone. The nonexistent sight of the car makes my gut drop, but I still turn around. Despite it being warmer on the other side of the door, I would still prefer staying on the concrete street than on the velvet carpet covering the floors.

The line back inside has grown the closer the hours have gone towards the night. I watch the line and the end of it. It has more people than me and Rin arrived. _Maybe he will be gone by the time I get inside…_

A whiff of smoke enters my nose. Then, I see smoke.

"I can see why the two of you get along," the man speaks and appears next to me. I jolt, but otherwise do not move.

 _It will be fine. This is a public area._ I clench my fists, they tremble. This is the point where I should confront him, demand answers and threaten, but no words come out. They shrivel up and die, together with my decision to stay behind. There are other taxis waiting on the side of the road – I could escape with one of those, if needed.

"What do you want?" I finally manage out. He has kept quiet, probably on purpose to make me uncomfortable. The man's missing tooth allows a dark gaping tooth gap to represent a black abyss into his mouth. One, that I seem to be frequently walking into.

"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable to talk?" He suggests and gestures towards an alley behind him.

I frown, crossing my arms and glaring at him. I am on my guard. "I have no reason to trust you."

 _Follow him and you will be killed._ That is how people in the movies get slaughtered. They follow a suspicious person late at night to somewhere even more suspicious. I refuse to become that person. I follow my gut and it is telling me not to stray anywhere where there is less amount of people.

As if knowing what is going through my head, he raises his hands in surrender and raises an eyebrow. "Now, now, I only came here to talk with you. No need to be so defensive."

"You want to talk, we can talk right there, out in the open," I say and gesture with my head towards an empty wall on the other side of the street. I do not want to be alone with him, but I also do not want other people to have an opening for eavesdropping. "I am not going anywhere else with you."

For a moment, there is a change in the expression of his eyes. However, it is subtle and so quick that I can barely register it occurring. He keeps his relaxed posture, one hand holding a burning cigarette and the other hidden in his pants' pocket. Compared to him, I am a statue. My shoulder are squared, hands firmly crossed, but shivering from the feeling of the wind against the flesh of my bare arms.

"Fine," he shrugs and walks past me, "have it your way, lil' lady."

 _Just like that?_ I continue frowning, limbs remaining as stiff as tree branches. However, in the end, I follow him, making sure to glance around the place in paranoid. He could have someone else here. But when we cross the road no car comes rushing towards us nor does the man even turn around to make sure I am following him. He is relaxed, completely void of worries. I almost envy him.

When we finally arrive, he chooses a spot near the corner, leaning against the wall and letting his old cigarette fall down to the ground. I watch as the small thing continues burning on the concrete and then dies out underneath his shiny shoes. A second after, he rummages through his pockets and takes out a full cigarette package.

To my shock, he offers it towards me.

"Want one?"

"No thanks."

For the second time, he shrugs nonchalantly. "Shame. Was kind of looking forward to having someone to share this with."

My lips form a thin line, when he lights up one and lets puffs of smoke out of his mouth. The bitter smell fills the otherwise pleasant air. I have never liked the smell of the smoke. Especially, when people have done it before me. It is hard to breathe, and I imagine the small particles just invading my lungs through the air I inhale.

"Who are you?" I ask, voice firm. It is a mask – on the inside I am shaking like a leaf.

"The name is Giran," he says and blows out another cloud, as if the answer tells everything there is to know. His eyes slide from the club on the other side of the road to me.

I stiffen further. "Are you a cop?"

At that he barks a loud laugh. It rings in the air and I flinch. "A cop! That is not the first but didn't expect you to think that!"

My fingers dig into the side of my arms and blood rushes all over my body. His reaction confirms my fears and I look down at the ground. Maybe being vulnerable like this isn't the best choice, but my body wants to curl into a ball from instinct.

"Only police officers should be… at least, I thought that…"

"Why would someone like that want to talk with you like this? If I were one, I would drag you to the station," he continues chuckling, bathing in my discomfort. "Do they have a reason for doing that to you, though?"

"No," the answer is immediate, and I meet his eyes with a lump forming in my throat. "It is just that… anyone _normal_ shouldn't know where I have been doing… how did you know that I have been at the station?"

"Been following you," he states easily, no hint of shame whatsoever. That is what makes his carefree expression so frightening.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Since when?"

"Details, details," he waves his hand. "What do you think?"

I wet my lower lip. "… After we met at the bar."

"Perhaps," he says and leaves it at that. He has annoyingly a very satisfied look on his face.

A car drives past us, soaking the dry street with light for a few seconds. Otherwise only a few streetlamps make sure that everything won't be swallowed by the night. If the entire electricity current of the city would suddenly shut down, the entire world would seem like it is ending. Which it, in a way, is going towards to, for me at least.

I wish for the ground to sink underneath my feet and let me plunge down. I would spend my remaining days hiding at the center of this planet, out of sight and then out of mind. That is at least a place where no one would think of looking for me. This guy definitely wouldn't be able to follow me there. _Just how long has he been tailing me?_ The image of grandpa's funeral, the day I arrived from Hokkaido flash in my mind, but I push them aside. Giran isn't revealing everything, yet, so… it would be better to remain oblivious.

But it is hard to remain calm.

" _I would firstly like to know if anyone else knows of your situation and of your current location."_

 _No, Tsukauchi-san,_ I say in my mind, pursing my lips. _Nobody else besides Sorahiko – Gran Torino – and you are supposed to know a thing._ I didn't sell it back at my hometown that I was moving out either.

"Alright, let's move on from the small talk," Giran suddenly sighs and pulls the cigarette out of his mouth.

I couldn't agree more. "What do you want?"

He takes a step towards me and I take a step back. Seeing this he pauses, but a nasty smirk spreads on his lips. He doesn't yet look bothered by my attitude. "Your family…"

A lighting strikes. It passes through the top of my head, travels through the nerve tracks in my spine and all the way to the rest of my body. It roots its way deep into my heart, which jumps all the way to my throat. Faces of those I hold – no, have held dear – flash with smiles on their faces, their sad and dark faces following.

"They sure have some dark secrets," Giran continues and trails off. He watches me, gauging out a reaction that I refuse to give. "Judging by the silence, you won't be denying it."

I am clenching my hands. The nail polish Rin borrowed to me is definitely wearing off by the sweat gushing out of the palms. " _What_ do you want?"

He lets out a small laugh under his breath. "Easy. I am getting there. Haste makes waste, ain't that right? I am just a poor dealer telling you all I know of you."

"How do you," I swallow thickly, struggling not to stutter. I can barely breathe. "Fine, continue."

"My thanks," he says and takes another sample from his cigarette. "Let's start from the basics: Maki Ren."

Again, my heart jumps and I forcefully relax my arms. The look Giran is directing at me is pressuring, though. All of sudden, I can't hear the music coming from the club, the giggling of the girls waiting in the line nor the sound of wheels moving across the road next to me. The noise fades and my attention focuses on those squinty dark eyes looking down at me.

* * *

" _I can't save your mother."_

* * *

"That man certainly _had_ an interesting quirk. A very scary one at that and this society was lucky to have him as its wielder rather than someone born from shit," Giran laughs roughly. Smoke escapes from his mouth. "Would have gotten a lot of fame from that. But I guess he had to be keep it together not to get the wrong kind of attention. I was quite surprised that the man didn't use his powers more openly, though."

"He didn't want that."

The grey-haired man looks up. For the first time, I have stopped shaking, but the expression on my face is blank.

"Grandpa wasn't that kind of person."

* * *

" _With this, I will make sure nobody knows the truth about you or where you truly came from."_

* * *

The man huffs, pulling up an eyebrow. "Didn't really think so either, to be honest. Someone who would want to boast wouldn't hide over four decades in a small town. He made a name for himself in his younger days, but that didn't last very long. Shame, such talent gone down the drain."

The cigarette falls down towards the ground. It has burned so fast in such a short amount of time, but maybe the time is finally slowing down. I can see the glow of orange as it continues descending. It is like it doesn't want to reach the ground just yet.

"Strange that someone with such high moral status would use his power to deceive the entire world…"

Dark purple shoe crushes the small thing. The smoke that previously rose is muffled and extinguished. I stare at the small mess revealed after the foot is lifted – the cigarette has been crushed, small specks of grey substance sprouting out of its end. The smell isn't gone, though. The trail remains.

"Just to hide like a villain in his cave," again, he lets out a laugh. "Pretty ironic for a hero. _Memoria_ certainly dragged his name over the mud."

For the first time, something else than uncertainty and fear form on my face. The corners of my lips twitch. It starts as a small movement at first, but then continues pulling the muscles around my lips further. I am not certain why it happens at first, but when it does, I let them form a small crescent smile. The corners of my eyes cringe and a bubbling chuckle rises from and out of my mouth.

Giran looks at me, his own face preserving that smirk to show his missing tooth. But there is a slight question in his eyes that wonder what the sudden change in my mood means.

"Grandpa wasn't a villain," I start and push back a strand of hair. I hadn't realize that it was sticking to my face before. My arms fall to my sides. "But he wasn't a hero either."

* * *

" _Grandpa."_

" _Yes?"_

" _I hate them."_

"… _I know."_

" _Can you erase them, too?"_

"… _No."_

 _But he wishes he could._

* * *

"H-honestly, he could have done more harm, if he wanted to. But he was just a one, simple grandfather who wished to protect his family," I continue and look towards the club and the people waiting in the line. "No one else mattered – he was selfish in that regard. He didn't care what would happen, if people some day broke off from what he did to them, or that he could be punished or treated as a villain later."

I turn my gaze back to Giran. The back of my throat hurts, but it doesn't stop me from looking into his narrow eyes. I am nervous, the slight twitching from my hands is evidence for that. Still, the mere memory of the old face of my grandpa almost make me smile even more, despite how that smile drops from my face the longer I continue speaking.

"He… he _toyed_ with this world's people's memories, so what? Don't call him either a hero or villain just because you have your memory back… now that he is gone that is. He was neither of those two," the last part naturally comes out as a whisper.

"… Very well," Giran says. He isn't mocking me after the emotional talk – which is more than I have ever said to him this evening – and remains completely passive. "Neither a hero nor a villain, huh. An interesting concept, but very unrealistic."

His last comment makes me flinch and heat gathers into my face. _That_ did sound like an insult. Although, he isn't very far off. _However, that is just what grandpa was._ And a thought that I refuse to abandon only because one word from a stranger.

"I'm surprised that nobody has noticed it yet. But I guess when memories remain asleep for over a decade they aren't as obvious as they would have been in the past. Don't be too surprised, when the press starts digging into this."

"I won't," I say in monotonous tone. "Grandpa is dead already – he can't be dragged into this mess."

"True. I wasn't warning him, though. You are the one who will have to face such things as the daughter of Genjitsu." His grin widens. "Or should I call her the Guillotine of Japan?"

Compared to how I talked about my grandpa, the words don't come out. I merely wait for him to continue, see what he has about to say. But, despite appearing somewhat calm, the open scene next to the club and with people around doesn't suddenly feel the safest place to be at.

We are at the bar again. Giran appears next to me, holding that mysterious smirk and starting a random conversation. We watch the old newspapers and I ask to find a certain one – an article, picture of Genjutsu – and he shows it to me generously. I had thought he was just a strange man back then, the kind who I would rather avoid. But now… _Did he know even back then?_

"Maki Mariko," he says and takes out a third cigarette. This one comes from a different box compared to the last one. His answer makes me both relieved and horrified. "The child of Maki Ren and Maki Hanabi."

 _Grandma._

"Like I said, your family has many dark secrets," he says and flicks the lighter. Sparks fly from it. "And those things are slowly coming to light. I am rather surprised there was nothing special to your father. Is he a hero as well?"

My shaking hands clench into fists. "W-what is the point you are trying to make here?"

"My point is that someone, who is very knowledgeable of your family history, is offering you a deal."

Grandpa had told me that once memories would be erased, the longer period of time they are gone the longer it would take to gain them on the topic that was lost. The fastest process would be bumping into the things, or a clue about it, to actually remember by piecing things together. This is all what he told me about recovering from his quirk, from the first time he used it years ago to the moment he died. That is how he made me feel safe.

By this point, the bile inside my gut is half-way up my throat. I can already taste how the sweet alcohol from before has become bitter while mingling with the acid fluids in human stomach. His words have confirmed it now – there is someone else who has done a lot more digging into things than Giran. It is scary. _All this time… I thought that nobody knew me._ Gran Torino I could understand, but not _this_.

"It has been…" I trail off, voice barely above a whisper. "Twelve years since _that_ time. How could… someone suddenly know where… me and grandpa moved. Also, I look different compared to the time I w-was a kid. My name is different, too. H-how could this 'someone' know about me?"

"Who knows," he answers and walks past me. I follow his movements, like waiting for a snake to lunge and bite. "I am simply a messenger here. Wasn't offered any other information than what I am telling you now. We know what your grandfather did, why he did it and now that he is dead you are completely open."

Like how I followed him to this point minutes ago, the purple suited man has his back to me. He walks forward with lazy steps, before leaning against the wall for the second time like a lax feline. For a moment, he does seem like that type of animal – agile, smart and totally unpredictable. I can't read what he thinks or feels, and I am an open book to him.

"He wants you to meet with him soon," Giran tilts his head and blows the smoke out of his lungs. "He didn't specify the reason for this request."

"… And you expect me," I inhale, "to just g-go along with it?"

"No, no of course not. I wouldn't have come here, if there wasn't something in it for you," he says and looks at me in a strange way. Like he is anticipating or can't hold in his curiosity for my answer. "In exchange for your cooperation…"

A long pause.

"You can see your mother."

I stare at him. The blood that has been rushing into my head all this time halts. The nails that have been digging into my palm become lax and unclench – the muscles become loose. The only thing that is restless is the beating of my heart that thuds inside the ribcage painfully, like it has the mind of its own. It is trying to get out, while my mind has stopped thinking entirely. As if going through an automatic instinct, it goes through memories. The times I spent with my mother, back when nothing or anyone could touch us.

When I was small, I remember how quiet, but cheerful my mother used to be. Her smile, her blank face when concentrating, watching her back in her room while she worked, those are the things I recall with bittersweet emotions. As I stand and the wind blows, moving my hair around, I especially live the moments when she brushed and played with my locks. They were shorter back then, but she still did it quite often. Then, there was the perfume of hers, her hugs, kisses, 'good mornings' and 'good nights'. Every day was almost the same but was filled with ordinary happiness.

Both me and my mother were nothing special. We were just living like anyone else. Again, we were happy.

And then it was taken from us.

The pictures of mother smiling are disturbed... They twist and turn, molding her features. The image cracks, shards falling and shattering to the ground. Instead of seeing her smile, I remember how she cried. Day and night, that wailing she had tried muffle piercing the walls in the house, how she turned gaunt and quick tempered. She had always had the latter, hidden deep inside, but during _that_ one year, it exploded over and over again. Furniture was thrown over, neighbors were terrorized, and my grandpa's sad expressions were all that followed. Such a sad and scary period of time… I was only a child.

Her expression turns darker. Redness surrounds the once clear eyes, hair falls down in mangles and greasy lines. The ends of her fingers are painted in red from the blows she had directed at non-living objects and nails are long but cracking and falling off. She looks like a monster, a thin, weak kind who can barely even stand anymore. Rather than a beast, she is tired. That is how I recall her after the _incident._

" _Masako."_

I am not a child anymore. I thought the tears from that time dried up. I have been crying only for grandpa these days. So, why do the back of my eyes start to tingle and the front stings?

" _I am sorry… I will have to go out for a while."_

A new, strange sensation of burning spreads across my chest. It is like a weed that spreads and spreads until my insides are tangled in it.

Giran stays silent, allowing me to stay in my own little world. His words have hit hard. I am sure it is obvious. The color and blood have been drained from my face. Shouldn't I feel… happy about this? Ecstatic? Of course, but… _How would it even be possible?_

He said – or more like laughed at my face – that he isn't a cop, so he can't be linked to any _legal_ office. He is offering me something I have been dreaming of, fighting for, the largest part of my reason being here is only a hand reach away. But while my heart soars, my gut plunges down into a pit. _This doesn't feel right._

I shiver, wishing suddenly that I had a coat.

"How?" I ask, feeling faint.

"The person I am working for has his ways," Giran starts, cigarette hanging between his lips. "But first you will have to fulfill his request."

 _You must be joking._

"And then what?" I ask again, inching slightly, but not obviously away. In favor of getting distance, I take few steps away before turning to the man again. "You don't even give me a reason why he wants to see me – that is suspicious. Also, you must know that… _she_ is in prison and not even the public knows which one."

"Like I said, my acquaintance has his ways."

The stone of the wall feels cold against my hand, as I lean against it for support. The man in purple suit has been suspicious from the start, but now he is simply making my skin crawl. The words 'this isn't right' repeat themselves over and over again, they are drawn to the air surrounding the street.

 _Say yes,_ the voice inside whispers sweetly, sickly obsessively. The sound of poison, a drug that clouds the healthy judgement. The cause is definitely the alcohol from before. Again, it appears on the tip of my tongue, inviting me to take another sip. Honestly, I wish for a bottle of sake – I want to actually act like a stupid drunk during this serious situation. Then I could very well drown the voice of reason in my head.

 _Say yes._

"… No," I finally say and look down at the dark ground.

This is the most sensible thing I could do. Refuse, show that I have enough common sense. This way, I won't get unnecessarily mingled into the wrong kind of crowd. I don't need this man and his _acquaintance's_ help to get what I want. I can achieve the goal of seeing my mother by myself…

Can't I?

"No?" Giran parrots and I avoid his eyes. "Huh, you are actually refusing."

"… Are you now going to tell about my grandpa to the media?"

"Nah. The public will start noticing things at some point anyway," he waves his hand and then straightens up.

Without paying attention, my shoulders slump down. His answer came so easily, but for me it was like a lifetime had passed by. He speaks the truth about how people will start to notice the strange gap in their minds – and not only a small group, but even entire nations that have been somewhat aware of the incident with Genjitsu. I am just glad it doesn't have to be tonight or even tomorrow.

Rather, I would rather not experience any media storm about my family. The thought makes my mood turn dark. That kind of exposure was enough once. Never again.

"Well, I guess this is it," he sighs and puts out the third cigarette the same way he had done to the first two. Without missing a beat, the man raises his hand and starts walking away.

"Wait!" I call out. "Aren't you worried that I might tell somebody about this?"

"Hm?" He turns around. "To whom?"

I falter, not liking how lightly he is taking this. "The police… maybe?"

From this, he grins nastily. "Do you actually think they would lift a hand, when they learn of who your mother is? Cuz from my perspective, you have had no success in getting your message through them for a while now."

My gut clenches, thinking of how I had stumbled out of the police station today. That is the first place I am thinking of running, but… would anyone really listen to me, at all? They might not think of this as a dangerous situation – I have not been harmed – but they would definitely dismiss it, if the whole truth was out.

"You are all _alone_."

I despise the cold. A cotching day in a desert would be better than staying anywhere below zero degrees. That is why, the amount of ice flowing into my veins makes it impossible to think. Yet, at the same time I become completely numb.

"That is why you should stay on guard," he says and begins walking again. "You have had your chance to come silently – you better be prepared in a next day or few."

The end of my nails dig into the wall. "For what?"

"Ain't it obvious?" He asks and stops besides a corner. His voice has a hint of sardonic amusement to it. "Someone will come and pick you up."

 _You will have no place to run and hide._

* * *

 _The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns._

 _He comes as everything you've ever wished for._

 _-By Tucker Max_

* * *

"Thank you! Keep the change!"

"R-right," the driver stammers out, but the door slams shut half-way through his reply.

 _You should have said yes!_

There certainly have been more absurd sights in the busy streets of the city. Crazier than a single woman, wearing nothing, but her club dress and a pair of flats, running – speed walking – through the concrete pathways. Unlike the taxi driver who had taken Rin home, the one I got had looked at me strangely, when I first sat down into the backseat.

This is where I have ended up, appearing like someone who has taken some suspicious substances. Luckily, there are many who are too busy tonight to actually pay close attention to me. Especially to how my disoriented hair is flaring around. It got worse, because I kept on playing with it in the taxi – I barely noticed. Not to mention, there is always something about a person who walks fast, runs or accidentally bumps into someone while in a hurry. Everyone seems to stop and stare at me, when I do one of those things.

Something clatters in the distance and I jump. It ends up being an aluminum can that has been dropped by someone. The profound amount of sweat forming in my armpits has nothing to do with running. I have become a mouse, desperately scurrying away from the hiding and looming cat.

Only the problem is that I don't know where to truly hide – only where to turn for possible help. It is the only place I could come up with in such a short notice, but it is also an option I was reluctant to take. _There is no one else who can…_ Rin's drunken face flashes in my eyes, but I mentally shake my head. _She won't understand._

The headlights turn red and people walk over the road. My heart that has been beating wildly stops for a moment – this is the same place where I almost got runover. The bones of the legs turn into leads as I walk through it, people surrounding me don't make things easier. I feel like every person who merely glances or walks past me is a threat. That they are someone who want to do me harm. Giran's words just keep on echoing between my ears like a broken record.

The smell of bitter smoke doesn't go away. Both my lungs are burning.

 _If you had agreed, you wouldn't be like this._

The building ahead almost appears like a shining beacon of hope… only that it doesn't contain fond memories. I wish the same desk worker who had almost kicked me out last time isn't working tonight. At the same time, I wish they haven't closed down. I sure have contradiction of interests today.

 _You would see mother again._

The doors slide open and warmth of the inside air engulfs me. The few people who are still left at the front desks look up almost in surprise at the entrance. I hurry to the nearest one.

"Yes, how may I help you?" He asks rather calmly, despite the way his new customer is panting.

The edge of the desk is having miniature dents made to it by my fingers. "I-is Tsukauchi Naomasa here?"

He takes a second to process the question before typing something on his computer. "Are you perhaps here for an appointment?"

I inhale deeply, trying to collect myself. "N-no, but I n-need his help."

"Unfortunately, he seems to be in a meeting right now. Do you want to perhaps arrange one with him for later date?"

 _Shit!_ Without thinking, I look over my shoulder. The door remains firmly locked and nobody else is rising up the stairs on the other side to come in. There is a comfy looking couch next to the entrance and I purse my dry lips in hurried thoughtfulness.

"How long does this meeting take?"

"Um, the one he is currently – "

"Yes!" I interrupt impatiently, panic starting to rise up again from how slowly this conversation is going forward.

The man looks a bit startled but continues speaking calmly. "This one should take two hours more."

"Can you send him a message t-that Maki Masako is waiting? A-and can I wait for h-him here?" This is bad – I have started stammering quite badly.

"Of course, but are you certain you can wait for that –"

"Y-yes, yes. Just _please_ rely this message for him. I c-can wait."

"Alright. This is urgent, correct?"

"Yes," I sigh out the breath I have been holding, inhaling deeply to gain oxygen I have been denying.

"Are you sure there is no one else I can call for you? We have other officers available."

"No," is out of my mouth in a second.

Stiffly, I detach the fingers from the edge of the desk and walk to the couch. I choose to sit in the corner next to a giant green plant, the ends of the leaves almost hide my face and aware of this – if not stupidly – I inch closer until I can barely see through them. I must look like a fool, but that thought is the second most important information for me at the moment.

Stiffly, I hug myself, teeth chattering against one another.

My hands won't stop shaking. They are positively turning into another form of matter. The image of trembling branches of a tree replaces them. Have I been trembling this badly all the way here? I can't really tell anymore. Mostly thoughts of someone suddenly grabbing me from this place and dragging me away into a dark alley keep on plaguing the mind. Most of all, I can't get Giran's face out of my head. The way he held his cigarette, how he squashed the old ones, all the while keeping his thin and narrow eyes lazily at whatever he was looking at.

Once, back when I was a teenager. Someone in my class – or rather a troublemaker – was caught by me smoking behind the school grounds. I hadn't stepped out of the appropriate territory, but the smell of smoke and the sight of a shadow leaning against a wall was strange to me. I was a bit naïve, back then to be honest. I thought that someone was lifting a fire or was otherwise sulking in the shadows. They wore school's uniform pants, so I concluded them as a student. Only when I approached did I realize the mistake. The boy was from my class, but instead of panicking he nonchalantly offered a small taste, just as long as I would not tell anyone.

That time, I was very curious what a cigarette would taste like. Almost every adult I knew used it. That is why, my young voice was clogged up to the back of my throat. It refused to budge. And for a one moment, I almost reached out for the offered cigarette brand that I couldn't recognize… but in the end, I ran back inside and reported to my teacher. Needless to say, the boy threw stinky eyes at me from that point on.

But the temptation has stayed with me.

 _You should have taken the offer. Now look at yourself._ The voice is angry – I am angry at myself. Regret of not taking chances prickles needles into my tongue, the same piece of flesh that had flapped along with my stubbornness.

Suddenly, one of the workers approaches me. He has a worried frown on his face that he appears to be trying to hide. "Are you alright?"

"Yea, I am fine," I say and thankfully have calmed down not to stutter like a fool again.

He stays silent for a while, but then hesitantly offers a blanket. "It is quite chilly out here. You can use this, if you'd like."

At this point, we both glance awkwardly down at my thin outfit. His face turns a bit flushed and the air turns uncomfortably awkward. I almost forgot that I was wearing a sleeveless dress, but the body has not. Goosebumps cover the entire lengths of my limbs.

I end up taking the blanket and thanking him. But it makes me wonder just how messed up I must appear to everyone in this building. I begin to wonder, if some of them were present here, when I came here for the first time around a week ago and was almost forcefully chased out. The thought is unpleasant, and I immediately push it away. It makes me think of other things, like whether Tsukauchi would help me or not.

 _But what else could I do?_

Naturally, my body leans back in exhaustion, chest heaving up and down from the aftermath of running.

 _It isn't like I could ask for a hero to help me out._

My throat burns.

* * *

 _I am_ _ **so**_ _done._

I wait and wait and wait. The noise of the people and city seem to dim. At some point, I was about to fall asleep, but currently I am emptying the minor context of my entire gut. I watch the yellowish liquid, small chunks of the light snacks I took before the club float about without a care in the world.

The smell of it makes me want to throw up again, but nothing expect for acid would come out anymore. I didn't even drink that much, but this is still the result. I drank less than that alcoholic friend of mine – _hopefully she will wake up with a headache –_ and am still crouching down at the edge of a toilet seat. A public one, at that, with my gut twisting and turning in nausea.

 _I want to go home._

Not only do I feel like toppling down, when I look up, I nearly flinch at the sight of reflection in the mirror. It might as well be the bright lighting in this place, but my skin has turned into paper. The ink black make-up applied to my eyes has smeared a bit on the edges, too. It is an image of a person, who is done for the night.

Tsukauchi has not come yet, my bottom is sore from sitting for two hours, the phone's battery is almost dead, and I have been rigid this entire time to a point where my shoulders have started hurting. The longer I have waited, the more the option of turning away and walking back to my apartment seems appealing. I question Giran's motives and how I could…

"Maki-san!"

The strain momentarily drops from my shoulders at the sight of a familiar face waiting in the middle of the lobby. Tsukauchi looks at me with relief, his appearance more disheveled compared to the last time we met. His white buttoned shirt is wrinkled, hem of it poking out from what appears to have been an attempt in tucking them into his equally wrinkled pants.

But most of all, there are bags under his eyes. They are very faint, but still there.

"Tsukauchi-san, good evening," I say, stopping a speaking distance away, maybe ten feet or less. _Or should I say night?_

He looks around at the empty couches and a blanket discarded there. "How long have you been waiting?"

"A couple hours," I say and shrug, like it isn't a big deal. In reality, it is. Waiting has been agonizing.

The black-haired man seems to think so too, because he frowns for a second, before smoothing out his expression. "I apologize that you had to wait for so long. You have something to discuss with me, right?"

"Yes," I say and look towards the door, gut clenching familiarly to the moment I ran in here. "But can we…"

"We can discuss it in my office," he says before I can finish and gestures towards the hallway. "Would you like to have something to eat or drink? I imagine that our vending machines didn't have much to offer."

If only he would see the mess I left in the bathroom, he wouldn't offer such things. Eating has been the last thing in my mind. "No, thank you."

He doesn't question my outfit nor the lingering smell of puke. It is a relief and refreshing to how otherwise I have been received in this place. All those other people had those frowns upon their faces, like they didn't understand what sort of creature crawled into their building. _Well, we both look like a mess. His calm reaction is understandable._

The hallways are empty, much like the lobby area. Not even a single worker passes by nor are there any extra noises coming from behind the walls.

" _You are all_ _ **alone**_ _,_ " Giran's statement is plastered into my head. I couldn't have agreed more with him at that time.

 _Don't listen._

All the unpleasantries are overboiling. They flood out of the container that they have been kept in all these years – the lock in the safe has been broken completely. It has taken away every small, remaining emotion of security that I have managed to keep together. Tsukauchi knowing the secrets was a different matter – he is a policeman, someone who personally happens to know my family. Maybe not in the ideal way, but… I have no idea who Giran really is or who he works for.

That may be the reason why I came here. There are four walls holding invaluable information surrounding me right at this moment. The kind that is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. This man walking in front of me had the intentions of keeping me quiet. He is the one who wanted to ensure that my story won't be spread from a loose mouth.

We step into an office and immediately I wrinkle my nose. The room has a faint smell of smoke in the air.

Ignoring how my hands have started to tremble again, I look at the black-haired man who closes the door after himself.

"Tsukauchi-san."

Our eyes meet and the coldness around me slightly melts. He has a friendly expression on his face. It is open, nothing like what the grey-haired man had on back at the club. It is this face that gives me the courage to open my stiff mouth.

"I need help."


End file.
